Thursday, July 25, 2013

keep the earth below my feet

If you're out here, why do I miss you so much?
--FUN., Stars

A Nomad's Hymn

Something stirred inside the soul,
the small sapling soul, younger than boredom,
newer than the starling's chick,
a soul that had just begun to taste the 
tantalizing air of strangeness.

Something burst forth, bud forth, sprang out
--something altogether wild and whimsical.
She laughed with the larkspurs and sighed with the heather,
She followed the heath until it ended in sunset.
She tasted the tangy air of a Indian Summer,
And her autumnal heart was branded
with the indelible and indescribable joy
of a nomad.

A desire came to the nomad soul to taste sea air,
to ride the undulating waves of a camel's gait,
to dance with the sparrows on the city's roofs
She craved to soar through clouds,
to dodge the mist that rolled off waterfalls,
She wandered through unmarked lanes
Teetered along the crests of mountain trails and
galloped through rainstorms, her laughter peeling like the church bells.

The world, she found, repeated itself over and over again.
The Joyful monotony of nature made her daily sing a new song
--just like the day before
Wherever she went, she found strangeness,
strangeness inevitably transmuted to familiar,
by a magic beyond her ken.


"Home!" cried all the seagulls, swooping to their nests,
the nomad soul obeyed and pitched her driftwood tent.
"Forward, forward!" laughed the spring breeze,
rolling through nooks and dells of the dewy glen
Breathless, the nomad soul followed the wind
as it danced and laughed
"Rest, rest" urged the stars, as the thick night set;
a lonely pine cradled the nomad soul under a blue moon.
"Will you never stop?" mourned the hearth fire of the cottage.
"There is no country too strange or forest too remote,
a people too far off, nor horizon out of reach,
no fauna too foreign, nor clime too harsh
Nowhere on this wide, rocky earth
do I find myself estranged from home--

"-a prophet's Nazareth is in his heart," she said.


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