The sights and sounds memorable of a place that has shaped my soul
cave my heart to the craved comfort of home.
My eyes closed, I can still feel the breeze whisping over the hills,
around the bend, across my face.
The fog drops, sticks to my skin like frosting.
The blue bus arrives on schedule bringing new people, new faces, another lovely, seeking, broken, humble soul-- another friend.
Through the village the donkey wails, the locals build, the land rests. The mountain tips burn like amber coals, the sun sets, the day ends, my heart beats with life life life, i'm alive alive alive, i'm in love love love with this moment.
I'm pricked, my eyes shocked open, I'm here, not there.
I'm restless, foreign, homesick.
My heart moves my mind moves my hands to inspire creativity, to unfold hope
to unveil the beauty that must be here...there must be beauty here.
I reach for hands to touch my hands,
my skin to feel, my eyes to see you, to see you again, to find you, to love you, to hold you...
My hand stretches to the sky, holding on to love that must never expire.
I walk on, my footprints left exposed, then abandoned, then covered by dust and I soak in the hope that I will return.

1 comment:

silly, selfish, and searching... said...

nice...for a moment as i read this, i felt that wind across my face!