I have a story to

I have a story to tell. It's not much, it's my two cents of what makes sense. I guess in retrospect it might not be much but it's who I am. They said, It was blue, it felt raw but never honest.I did my best to hold on, I tried my best to stay there. But how can I hold a fleeing moment? They warned, It felt like jagged pieces of shards were being deeply sewn into my soul, lovingly leading me into the edges of my shredded serenity. Pieces of me went without my permission.little did I know...My permission was never important in the first placeand so like the old lady at the corner of the market,I bargained. A tear, for my memories of you.A breath, for your hearted laughter. My happiness for your existence.My life for yours. And like the old lady, I worked,Bargaining dailyTill the wrinkles on my hope sunk in deeply, shading over the mirage of what I thought was you. And so, I moved. I am a born nomad, after all, searching in the midst of desperate souls. Until I fell upon a garden with delicate flowers. Wild they grew, and different they were. For a moment, my heart swelled in the essence of silence in a moment so full of somethings. If I could promise then, I'd promise you my love...albeit it was... somewhere.I returned to my search. As the sun set, I kneeled near the quintessential beauty of natureand breathed, my eyes roaming across the garden. For a year, I had sat there, watching as he buried the souls of the dead.For a year, I watched grief tear down the living.For a year, I witnessed tears fall over the seeds of the past and for a year I wished I had grieved. If I could promise you anything then...I would promise you my tears. Packing up, I walked again. I am a natural nomad after all. Heavy was my chest, light in the heart. I lost many pieces of myself. A mirror no longer looked the same, the reflection wasn't of existence. It came without fear, like the swimmer. As she went, diving under the moon and dipping below the stars...But I am a natural nomad after all and so forcibly I am whisked away by the wind. To go about and to go away.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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