Monday, June 02, 2014
Foreign Travels
Foreign Travels
I am trying to think
of somewhere foreign.
Some place where I did not
know the language
or gestures,
where everyone was
taller or shorter
than I was
and their skin color
was not the same as mine
and the street signs
never matched the streets.
Fact is, I never went there.
I stayed home,
“traveled much in my own living room.”
Wherever I went
was always inside,
ever further and further
into the interior
of the—mind? self?
the dark continent of
fathomless mystery--
whatever it is
that resides within,
places that resonate
in delight or pain,
cities with no names,
locations not listed
on any map.
Roses so beautiful
that not even the gardener
knows their beginnings.
Dorothy Walters
June 2, 2014
