Poetry From the Present:

Wash the Countries Clean by Night

Travelers tend to lose themselves at home.

We make our homes a states of affairs and

Not the foreign affairs of fickle states.

Time speaks to us in the language of

Longing waves, dimming sands intensify

And reaffirm the pulling time that leads

The waters further and farther to wash

The countries clean by night.

Far from home living room fires still burn

As ominously as always and their warmth

Reminds us of what we have not left behind.

We could focus our attentions on the inevitable

Demise of our bodies or could laugh nights away

To bath ourselves in the bliss of nomadic lives.

We will not win our battles in the hearts of nations

But the hearts we will touch as we pass on by.

In countries far from home I see the sincerity flooding

The streets of seeking souls where there is glory

In the moments of bittersweet sighs.

Like a sea facing window we are looking out

Past salt flavored breezes as if looking at destiny.

Feel the sound of windy waves which pace themselves

To the synchrony of healing heartbeats.

When she spoke, Time’s voice was surprisingly affectionate.

Her trembling tones comforted us and with Time

We relearned how to smile and look through the windows

That boarder the edges of this that we call our lurid lives.

There’s something about a city. Something about

Its laughter that gazes and grinds ruthlessly into

The sparks the lost souls of women’s men.

Here we find our humanity,

And when you have humanity,

You can’t help but find love.

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