There is a pebble embedded

under my tattered nails

they are raw and ragged

caked with grass and dried mud

full where it should be empty crescent moons

Scratching at the surface

of the frozen ground

I was powerless

but once I felt

the heat radiating from

the core of the mother’s belly

I knew Santorini wasn’t so far away

after all

In the blink of a poet’s third eye

In the bluest blue of the sky

In the blossoming of a lotus I

I could be there and experience

the scent of the ebony sand

the ocean smoothed stones

My fingertips are the guide

as the blackest black ink

travels across the

virgin white parchment paper

creating synapse avenues

completing the circle

Like bubbles of air

I slowly rise to the surface

where this time the earth

is my sister awaiting

my return home

About the Author ()

I am very passionate, sometimes too impulsive, a lover of life and all that it has to offer.

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