Just One Place

I am putting dots on maps again.
I wish we were made out of the same material.
Cotton or stars, saltwater or redwood.
It would just be nice to know
that we came from the same place.
Different patterns cut from the same source.
Maybe then, I could allow myself to believe
that we’d find our way back.
Some events, some people, aren’t supposed to
happen. I have a long list of things to be sorry for.