it feels like getting
a part of me back
maybe it’s nothing
to most — maybe it’s small
but in the depths
of utter chaos — in the stark tragedy of loss
the return of something small
no matter how mundane
no matter how simple
no matter how trivial
— it’s everything
it’s the reprisal of some dignity
the revival of skill
the sensation of being useful again
a return to belonging
a return to familiarity
a return to some kind of
home
because now I know, I was not cast out
I was not forgotten
the people have heard
the many have seen
they’ve recognized what I am
and what I mean
yes, this return may be small
but for someone nearly gone
it…is…everything
Garbage Notes:
This poem is about losing something and then finding your way back to it. Especially if it’s something you didn’t think was all that important. Maybe you took it for granted. Or maybe it was just one of those things that came easy, and you never imagined you’d miss it after it was gone.
Specifically, I wrote this after being asked to return to a job I thought I had lost forever. But this poem could be about any little thing. I could imagine it applying to someone losing the ability to do something because they’re recovering from an injury or an illness. Or someone who for whatever reason can’t drive for a period of time. Or perhaps someone who has parted from their family.
Sometimes we don’t realize how lucky we are to have the things we have. Lucky to be able to work. Lucky to have people in your life. Lucky to have a functioning body and a working brain. Lucky to live in a place that’s safe and peaceful. Not everyone has these things. And when you lose something that you thought maybe was a given, it can be disorienting.
There are few things more crucial to a meaningful life than the feeling of belonging. We all have a desire to be needed. We all have the desire to be recognized. So anyone who feels a little lost or rejected, it’ll be okay. You’ll find your way back. Somehow, someday, you’ll make your return.
Franco Amati 2023
Return me to me. Yup. You never know how much it means to find yourself until you've lost yourself and clawed your way back. I've seen this process in progress. It isn't always pretty but it is worth it. And once you're back, you'll never let go again. Unless you never wanted to come back in the first place. Drifting around in your own head is effortless and comforting, for me anyway. It's the real world I want to escape from. I suppose that means I would return to my drifting hey?
Beautiful. It made me think of great tragedies: a massive fire, or a flood that steals homes and safety and all one’s belongings. And thru the rubble they find one small photo, or a chipped teacup, and suddenly that tiny object represents everything. And becomes hugely important.