The dipping sun painting hills rusty red
Crimson flowers, trees lush greens deepen
Coffee dried in the day collected in at dusk
The beauty of the stars and the moonlit night
Draws you into to romantic notions of their life
Meal time comes seated as an honoured guest.
Dogs prowl and snap are teased for scraps
Thrown and devoured bones nothing is left
In the background they make a bed for my rest
A full moon casts shadows it is so bright
Women clear the food and the drinking begins
The gentle spirits lit by candles spilling wax
Smiles broaden and teeth show white - a stereo type
All have stories to tell, I watch and listen
The language is one I do not understand
Though emotions, hands and eyes tell so much
I feel I am a part of them and laugh - I am touched
The peaceful idyll is not all pillows and plush
Life here is hard - harder than the bamboo bed I share
It is cold and the noises of dogs and roosters shatter
Restless fitful dozing - babies crying and being hushed
For one night it is something that does not matter
I walk before dawn to watch the sun rise in the east
I follow the moon as it departs behind the distant hills
My bones warm in the early melting pink sun spills
I watch the village routine unfold in the gathering light
I heard it start before dawn the women going for water
From a distant spring - their dignity grace and strength
Worlds apart the gulf I am trying to cross to understand
Kids are all flesh and blood tantrums cheeky and shy
Showing me we are all one we are born the same
Happy in their bright uniforms and frolicking fun
Dogs cleaning up after toddlers before they are done
I can leave and I can shower and change - have a cold beer
These wonderful generous people will stay and continue to live
To laugh and cry - to have babies and die.
A depth a lesson a humbling gratitude sinks in
We bleed the same. I feel weak. They have strength
They have a sense of life and death. A closeness to nature
Western lies try to eliminate with shiny things.
I have restarted a journey here seeking understanding
