September

A poem I wrote a year ago this time, when I first moved to Spain

Peace rolls off my tongue

in this land of beauty,

filling my belly with fresh pomegranate seeds

and the bright red of new life.

The mornings I wake up to a dark world

and roll onto my back

to be greeted by a cotton candy sky

and shimmering pools of belief.

The sounds of ancient church bells

and an ancient people that know these winding streets,

that breathe the freshest of life.

My teachers tell me to work, to reflect

to live and breathe my art

to give this world all of me

again and again and again.

Peace cradles me in the salty arms of the Mediterranean sea

in the waves lapping like kisses

on my happily aching body

the ache of becoming more each day.

This place that was once a dream

becomes my home bit by bit.

The caramel roofs on white stone houses,

the walks with nowhere to be,

the town that comes alive with joy,

good things take time to arrive.