Bella Caledonia

To Scotland,  thank you.

Forth bridge shining, many have been floating in the water
this is what you see from Queensferry to Edinburgh,
the way land allows to the sea its distance when it needs
to breath and meet new faces, it is different how we see
when we are looking.

In the garden, there is thistle,
purple and green that reminds the stranger
of torrid landscapes, ones you never look into when you travel
the distance between paying attention and falling asleep
to avoid catching yourself in too much motion

in the hall, there is music,
there are voices, some singing, mine screaming
shouting basic sentences, in an attempt to pledge
to the higher gods of creativity and self sustaining habits
like someone patting you on the shoulder and telling you to
be happy, then disappearing

in the flat, lots of laughter and conversations
of real importance, of nuisance, of ignorance
we hug one another, carrying the parts of being
of a varied, diverse world but working on one
tongue that shifts from city to another from
one confidence to the other

in the end, a friendship is forged, that transcends
the boundaries we set to create
by attempting to let language lead the way
 we resist melting into everything
bagpipes at every corner
I leave with the Edinburgh horses hooting me
the Scottish warmth beneath my neck, huddled like a scarf
lighter, dreamier, always tracing my steps backwards
to the castle, to the faces, to the knowledge that a dream
once became more than a vision with closed eyes.

photograph is mine, Edinburgh 2015.