Sometimes you can go back in time.
You go back to a house,
you go back to a beach,
you go back to picking blueberries.
You used to find many other small berries,
behind the house left from Soviet times.
They used to spy on the whole town from that house.
Not tall, rather long,
converted for tourists.
That house is gone now,
hope they left the woods alone.
Sometimes you can go back in time.
Trees would have swayed,
wind would have blown
almost the same in grandmother’s time.
I’m sure the sunset was just as beautiful
through war and holocaust and deportation.
Sometimes you can go back in time.
Grandmother’s house is here,
you sang the songs from grandmother’s time
on the big stage with thousands and thousands.
Zile is here,
your relatives will always be here.
Sometimes you can go back in time.
We were here five years ago
and before,
when the kids were small
and fit in a bicycle carrier.
We rode rented bikes and walked through the woods
to the tip of the peninsula.
Very nice there,
hope they preserve it.
Housing from the 70s maybe,
other historical memories
including 1990.
rediscovery of your inheritance.
A precarious future.
Sometimes you can
go back in time.

MW July 2018

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