Rome

I only allow myself 
to be half full of Rome
untill nightfall

The ancient streets
are filled with mortal sins
of the modern life

In the shadow of the street lights
I take off my sandals
kneading my heels into the cold cobblestones
pressing my palms on the old walls

Now
I let the saints and ghosts
fill me with the rest
A scarlet rose in my hair
A bronze raven at my feet

Travel Away

The Living Poetry visual prompt

There is something about packing up your bag
to travel away from all things
unresolved, unresolvable, underserving of resolution

There is this escape to
an unknown, unfamiliar, understating place
where your story is new, fresh, mysterious
worthy of all the attention from strangers

The you on a travel trip
is you
is the you never expressed
isn’t you
isn’t the you known most of your lifetime

A plane carries you away
to a land of wonder
only you define it to be
when the troubled waters
flooded home

(Photo by Stephanie Katz)