I had chosen my bag <br />I had packed my things <br />and leaving I sensed the drag <br />of memory, past's belongings <br /> <br />Who said this was goodbye not farewell? <br />Who prayed this was a choice and freewill? <br />Could a forced and definite departure <br />become the start of a new adventure? <br /> <br />I had covered my wounds <br />and my spine was in splints <br />a home was left into ruins <br />and love seemed lost to sins <br /> <br />Who said this would only last a while? <br />Who prayed this pain was not an exile? <br />Could hard and blunt expulsion <br />be anything else but repulsion? <br /> <br />I walked away from memory lane <br />and behind me the roads were shut <br />windows barred, future was framed <br />and all lines of life were irrevocably cut <br /> <br />Wandering aimlessly without a home <br />but for whatever remains I had packed, <br />under cloudless skies and a starry dome <br />a yearning for healing still nagged. <br /> <br />And only two quiet eyes were of need, <br />two hands able to give as well as to receive, <br />two ears to hear of what I would speak, <br />just one tongue and sweet words to perceive. <br /> <br />Miracles can occur when carrying pieces of home, <br />for it's not just you on this road, it's not so alone. <br />It must have been pleasing to some unwordly will; <br />at the roadside where, for a moment, I stood still. <br /> <br />In these eyes I saw mine, <br />and two hands I did find, <br />my words no longer fell unheard, <br />and pain a soft voice did cure. <br />I say: should this only last a while, <br />I pray for this queen of my exile!<br /><br />Frank Witte<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1490-1500-1493-1514/
