We must give the story of our misfortunes a home. This always seeking to start anew, to cover our eyes and elude some pain, eventually only makes refugees of our wounds. They follow at our heels and seep into the background life of every Love. They become the distant, tenacious ache which howls with a silent mantra of unBelonging. We must remember and be willing to say their name. We must house our displacements, gather them close and feed them with our remembering until they acquiesce as the great allies that they are.