Poem: "Castaways"

How shall we go about this
Endeavor of re-enchantment? How

Shall we regain what has been lost?
Where shall we look when we have

Little idea what we are looking for?
Something only dimly remembered,

An image on the other side
of a smudged and dirty window,

A substance having so long ago
Slipped between our fingers,

Leaving us staring at our hands,
Unsure and fearful of the task before us.

The elders say it started when we turned
Against growing old, against even dying.

We’re nowhere now, with nowhere to go,
Castaways, eyes scanning the horizon.

M. Bogen
November 2024