Today was the last “Practice, Practice, Practice” workshop taught by Reisha – courtesy of artEast. Thanks to Reisha’s energy and enthusiasm, a lot of fun was had when schedule allowed.
One of the challenges she offered was based on the following:
“We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently dispersed. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again- to slow time down and get taken in, and fall in love once more.”
― Pico Iyer
So, we were asked to write about traveling, be it ourselves or characters in a story. Within the time limit given, here is my resulting poem:
Oh, how I’d love to see
The beautiful cities of Italy.
I would gladly, quickly leave my home
For another week spent in Rome.
There, driving rules surely differ.
(Bus drivers over taxis, I’d prefer).
To go from church to church on my own two feet
Strolling down the cobble-stoned streets.
The art, the glass, the shops, the towers –
Michelangelo and other artists, with their powers;
The voices, the bells – this music the heart swells;
The sea, the bread, various scents cloud the head.
All envelop the soul in the here and now,
Yet offer a scent of various pasts somehow.
The setups of the cafes and the bars
Seem more inviting, open, and relaxed than ours.
And to find a tiny theatre with a foreign movie,
Intermission between reels, refreshments available for a small fee.
If I could go back to Italy,
I would definitely want company.
I’d ask my Dad’s sister, my favorite aunt to go.
It was her initial invitation and encouragement for me to roam.