There is a feeling, at least for me, unique to traveling. At times, surprisingly liberating--a cacophony of foreign tongue surrounding you in a courtyard, and no need to process, respond to, or even comprehend any of it. Language broken down to appealing sounds and ear-catching bits. More often than not, I try to open my ears to all of it at once but, somehow, have yet to exhaust myself.
However, everything has an afterthought. More now than ever, I find myself with constant narration. My mind whirring with stimulus; all of it inherently good, intrinsically productive--at times, though, there is a...density to is all that can leaden one's steps.
Kadikoy Mussel Seller-
a man,
lighting his cigarette
his only concern his
his concern only his
pyramid of clicking black
the middle of a cobblestone street
amidst
the
jangling pockets
of drunken home-stumblers
...but most of all I am learning to love relaxing into the view.
THOSE CLOUDS
ReplyDeleteAs you hover above the roof tops
on this late evening Turkish day
Long before the rain you are holding drops
A"miss ya, love ya" message"to his heart say
Clouds tend to always grab our attention true
Please keep him safe and sound
and change for him quickly to skies of blue
Till he is again homeward bound
Give him lots of cloud free days, sunny days
Challenging studies, new friends, happy hours
As this cloudy evening within his view fades
Simply fill his heart with daisy flowers