The India photos are stunning;
I can almost smell the aromas and rank odors
and hear the voices of washing women, holy men
and cows echoing demands across sacred water.
I visit your webpage and I feel you – right there,
deep in the village in Botswana -shutter flashing,
gracious smiles of women who open their homes
and feed you their fattest grubs;
a delicacy they’ve waited all year to feast upon,
saving the best for you, and presenting with hands
like skin-draped branches, old and gnarled at twenty two.
It’s like looking through the eyes of your soul
reflected in the faces of strangers;
dark, wise faces, open, cautious faces,
faces with only hope to lift them.
It will be good when you’re back.
We can walk our dogs beside the river
like we did in the spring, laughing
about our expectations and dreams
knowing anything might happen.
I want to see the person that,
with a lens
and a suitcase
and a curiosity about people in other worlds,
especially the women,
sought the woman
I have seen her many times
so I know who and where she is
But I just want to ask,
Did you find her?