My Santiago

Leaving and Returning (July 2002)

At the odd moment, One is compelled to leave - in order to return.

In order to see with the heart, One must move out of sight. To glimpse the obvious, Simply there, Confronting the face, Assaulting the eyes …the other senses Yet blurred and shapeless - by a focus too close.

Leave, And distanced by space, One is wonderstruck - by the cloth,

Rich and textured. The strands woven -

thread upon thread,

And layered -

act upon act. Speckled with the myths of memory, A fact richer than lies, The double stitching at the edges, Preventing unravelling.

The care into the garment, The thought into the union.

So, the traveller returns, Now slightly creased, And travel worn. But now wonder is given back, As he sees the place for the first time