(liberia, may 2006)
airports and airplanes and runways
finding out that other way
that deep down everyone the same
skyscrapers and dusty streets
late, late nights
an endless treat
dreaming ever of more, more, more
toes pulled by tides at ocean’s shores
(on opposite sides of the world
in the space of weeks)
then more airports and airplanes and runways
not ever sure when to leave or stay
or if to leave or stay
living for today
always holding tomorrow at bay
dreams that kept up with eternity’s pace
life of risk the most glorious play
of all I could be
did I somehow miss it?
does it miss me?
(northern ireland, december 2005)
This morning, before my run, after and while I spent time with God, I wanted my old life back. The life where I didn’t live anywhere for more than a couple of months for an entire year. The life where foreign soil that didn’t touch N. America was as familiar to me as the grass outside my apartment. The life where Carla and I sat up all night processing the grace, the kindness of a God who let us be there, where we were, then. We learned so much that summer. Our hearts were spread wide and receptive, our lives eager for retention. I felt drenched in the fullness of reality day in and day out. I miss that.