To the Lighthouse

Orlantae Duncan

November 19, 2025

I was there too
                          ya know,
left forgotten where time tastes

of sea salt and smoke. I remember
the orphanage, us children like seeds
drifting

Through fields of sand and rooms
sun-stained and bleached white; after

Everyone left, planted east of Eden—
             buds adopted in the gardens of Nod,

Memory wouldn’t work anymore:
too much war, or school, or new names

Taking up space where our laughter
used to hide-and-seek each other.

And the lighthouse? It remains
beside the ruins of the old house

Overlooking the beach, wondering
                                       [I’m projecting]
When we’ll return       when three or more

Will gather in reunion’s name
and watch us scatter    run wild
                                                     again.