When I told him I was leaving and
where I was moving to, the little ogre
of a man with gray sideburns and wiry
moustache laughed and told me that
I was going the wrong way, no one
moved back over the bridge, instead
they all spent a lifetime of struggle
to come this way, to live on this side.
Three years later, I returned and
understood now what the nameless
prophet meant with his message and
the little laugh he shared on moving day.