Everyone comes from somewhere.

Everyone has a past.

Everyone is somewhere first.

Everyone is somewhere last.

 

Deep in the heart of buildings 

scattered about online 

packed away in boxes

hiding in cupboards

are fragments and hints 

about your life and mine.

You catch a glimpse of your name, 

you might suddenly see an address, 

sometimes it’s typed,

because your name was recorded by an official; 

sometimes it’s writing that looks like

it was written by spiders.



Everyone comes from somewhere.

Everyone has a past.

Everyone is somewhere first.

Everyone is somewhere last.

These are the stones on a path 

that tell a story

of how people travel,

These are the stones on a path 

that I found

a story that I unravelled.



Everyone comes from somewhere.

Everyone has a past.

Everyone is somewhere first.

Everyone is somewhere last.