Victoria

We’re carving through islands,

hopping houseboats coloured

like dreams I haven’t had

since childhood.

All belongings underwater –

like turtles we’ve taken

the burden on our backs eagerly

for the chance to taste seawater.

The ruts in prairie fields we found

ourselves in no longer have

the traction to hold,

as we’ve traded our handfuls of mud for sand.

People don’t do this. But we are.

My skin and hair relaxes with

the wet abundance in the air,

and I feel the pause,

that intermittent fog of much-needed reprieve,

lifting at last.

All this time,

these dreams were so much closer than I thought.

I followed a trail of breadcrumbs,

held in my mouth the yeast and powdered grains

along with the curiosity, the longings, the long-time loves.

I followed yoga, robes, and the smell of incense,

chased the affections of friends I never have to run after,

the green moss of lands where life unfurls

in effortless plenty,

and landed here.

I plant myself in this rich, dark soil

and await the flowers that lay dormant within me.

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3 thoughts on “Victoria

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