Somewhere far away you walk,
in spaces broad and warm and raised,
the heat a waving scarf upon you,
the breeze a subtle sea.

The thoughts,
they bound from near to far and
here and now to
monographs of recent memory.

Love’s won and done,
breath felt and breathed,
moisture and warmth,
the timeless sanctuary.

The wounds they glow and fade,
the violence barks and bows,
these padded steps and lilting limbs
erase the jagged edges.

Some approach and smile,
some yield,
some debate outside of your presence,
some pass like wandering ghosts.

A hot meal will be good,
when the light and the heat are down low,
and here and there meet again,
in the presence of your space.

You breathe in that distant land,
all here borne there,
to be scrubbed by absentia,
by fiesta and siesta,
bathed in the tides
of new foreign places,
words, scenes, scents and faces.
Mementos of a separate peace.

You look at the white moon,
feel the ache in your strong tired legs,
see your parents and sons,
and fold into gratitude and sangrias.

Over there where far away you walk,
in spaces broad and warm and raised,
the heat a waving scarf upon you,
the breeze a subtle sea.