jan 25 there / march 23 here

one year ago, i was on the tail end of winter in north italy. down coat and scarf, i endured with my face covered, head to the wind and the promise of approaching spring. this afternoon, i'm all ears and watchtower to the rainy season rolling through the el sal hills. i don't have many words for everything and my throat is dry, but never have i been so ready to be drenched to the bone. 

i filled the last page of a journal the other night; so as i was scrambling out of the house to make it to church this morning, i grabbed a new one off my bedroom bookshelf. when i opened it, i found some ideas scribbled onto the second page, dated january 25, 2013. 

i don't usually try to adapt the words i've written so far in the past, to fit the things i'm feeling now; never really felt like it was honest, to either sets of ideas. then again to be dishonest to my thoughts would not rank anywhere near the top of my list of offenses, so what the hell, here it goes. 

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on an italain bus in the middle of winter / to a salvadoran cafe with the approaching rain

someone told me once 
that people are like flakes of snow.
no two are alike.
so i responded that i once loved a blizzard
and tonight i'd give any one of my limbs to be frost bitten.

this bus is crowded 
and my hands are cold. 
i'd give up my seat a thousand times to feel needed, 
and if i were honest - i'd confess to having given up a lot more. 

if life is navigation   
most days are spent righting where i got off course; 
and by evening , 
alcohol will make a prophet 
of even the most foolish cicerone.

but if rain is newness 
drench me to the bone;
and all my body  
will beat to the hope 
that even the compassless, 
can soon find the other edge of the woods.