Light slants in from the West.
Everything in the room casts a shadow.
Shadows, approximations of truth,
scatter like ashes on the carpet.

The old dog stretches out asleep among the shadows.
Rescued from a lonely and desperate situation
she trades affection for affection and loyalty for food.
Her devotion rescues me daily.

Sunlight fades, shadows wane, the room darkens.
I am here with this dog and the words I have written,
evidence of something, an approximation maybe.

If this journey has been more diaspora than homecoming,
still, I have come a long way,
and I can only try to pay for my sins.