I understand, now, I think

Your view from behind the picket fences

From the shadow of the pew

Your thoughts, swirling as you sat there

Your small slights smarting,

Hidden from view by your skills in torment

Later, in the upthrust and erosion of youth

The faulting and the folding within became bare to you

The hidden landscape of upheavals and storm events

The unconformities,

The inconsistencies you glimpsed

The schism between their continent and yours was made in magma

Your slow drift south

The oceanic gulf yawning in your throat…