Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Coming Home by Siobhan Farrell

Coming Home

The lilacs were almost spent,
but their fragrance caught sharply in my throat
as I drove home along June manicured streets after flying
the last leg of my journey high over the cold Arctic Ocean,
down into Hudson's Bay, finally diving into
the jumbled forest-hewn city perched on the edge
of the boreal forest, far from Asiatic bird-laden winds,
melting heat, feverish monsoon rain and
the lemony scent of frangipani.

I had just left my daughters, girl/women on a small island,
light years across the world  where we had explored countless geographies,
our own reflections, and the enduring yet fragile bond
 that exists between daughters and mothers.
In the hourglass foray from our base camp in Bangkok,
we charged onto planes and boats, then moved to exploring on foot
vast hills cloaked in light and shadowed bamboo.
We had sipped thirstily on sweet fruity concoctions in beach cafes,
wandered dreamily through bustling markets with too many cats,
getting lost on untidy streets touched by ancient magic.
We had rode three to a scooter in the pouring monsoon rain
with the wind whipping through our hair, tasted the salt
of the translucent blue waves as lightning lit the beach,
listening to beats of distant drums.
I became drunk on a brew of their star-filled stories
and brightly-jewelled memories collected from their meandering
journey through India, their harmonious love still intact.

And in that space of timelessness and chaos,
I had reawakened to an earlier incarnation which felt at home in
this spontaneous and spiritual landscape.
Until the inevitable rude slap of departure shocked me with a fear that my hungry,
brave and  foolish heart might remain locked in time on a star-dazzled beach
where drums and fireflies and lightning fill the sky.

So I wonder where my spirit resides, for once on familiar soil,
all was green in a coolness that was welcoming and peaceful
on my first run in the forest under a blue sky which surprised with its beauty.
But this splendour makes me ache to inhale so deeply that I can no longer breathe.
I want to keep holding my breath knowing the rush of bliss as I walk
out into the shallow water to embrace the sky as it scoops me up
until the earth  disappears below my feet,
feeling the power and force of the universe in every cell of my body.
I become the cloud-filled sky, cradling the fish and the birds
and everything else is unimportant.

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