View from my apartment window. A not-gray day. |
What am I spending my thought energy on now, in my 18th month as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Moldova? What battle am I fighting in there? I asked and this came:
There is gray
On this day
There is no one
to say
How it all comes
together
When a day is so gray
There's a quickness
to air
There's a stir
In my heart
Is there is something
to grasp to?
Or is flying
my art?
One part is
so gray
And the other
can't say
In which
direction
Or what
to allay
This morning I awoke to a cold rain that soon became snow. Winter, it seems, has found Moldova.
OM shanti
Om peace
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