Motherland

February 6, 2008

Flamenco dancers and guitar strings,

mediterranean airs pull my soul in.

The arab blood runs through that song.

Once again my nights are full of dreams,

Images sewn into my psych….

Feelings which drowned me in the recent and distant past.

I’ve found my core like volcanic ash,

ready to fall apart held by cool lava of fright.

I hope to wash my gosthly craters

of the illusions they once held

return ashore and to the Alhambra…. renewed.

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