(Lipari) (Sicilia 38)

the hills didn’t find me but they found friends anyway.
lingering between my thoughts
of crying for peace
they split themselves open and teared over the green lush abbreviations of the sea.
it wasn’t mournful
the way a coating of rain hit their shoulders
nor did gloom move in.
happiness on this island does not
pack its bags like I’ve done tonight
and ever simply move on.

what friends! on the merciful grey
which normally turns my insides into a pink and red depression
brought me such soft light.
a termination of a time delivered as graciously as this
is the way to go.
“we are fog,” they said, as they covered the hills with their shawl.
“and we love that your intentions were shattered with our arrival. it was a grand plan, but ours is likely better.”

and with that message,
at once did I understand.
it’s not in the preparations we make that solace is ever obtained.
it’s not in the sorting out of classes
or the random picking of numbers
does one truly stumble into sanctity of life.
it’s when friends like these
grace the doorstep and invite one out
ever if unwilling.
it’s the fortitude we have from being so ready
that makes new options arise.
ah, to be a human, when the tropical forests find their way into my eyes
even in the Mediterranean.
and I can turn book pages
and shake this utensil in my hand
and rest, beg for peace and find it.
all because the skies found a new way
to please.