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March 6, 2018

Written in the Nairobi, Kenya workshop

If I were to tell you of the moon and how she wakes me in the night with that cloud of brightness falling over my bed, would you be able to feel the hush of her shimmery light, or know the deep place it stirs in me when I wake to that sight? 

     If I were to tell you of the smell of dry grass when the rain finally begins to fall and the straw-like blades give way under heavy, plump-round drops, would you feel the quickening of pulse, the pleasure and relief that rushes in when drought is broken? 

     If I were...

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