this is for york
a place where magic always happens
it doesnt have to be big or tremendous
it just has to be real and a little fairy-like
and it does. it does-
it always, always feels like a dream
once you leave the house, something happens
in the tiniest of ways, life proves itself as wonderful, over and over again
it is a warm and a cold feeling, it’s soft,
you are in this little bubble
not really sure of where you are, at all
the light never disappoints
and ‘oh, i’m the weather’, you will say,
but there’s never been a moment
a single moment
when you didn’t wake up
oh, i wonder what today will bring –
whether it’s rain or a golden light, or a new year,
a fresh soul, to understand yours
seasons work in strange ways, nature finds its way to your very bones, and often
you are really convinced
that it’s working on your side.
pathetic fallacy is real, you hear yourself say,
but what a funny funny thing to say.
selfish, too, because why would something as bountiful as nature
be in sync with you.
when the snow came, that is when it felt real
you heard your voice from a distance, as a child, of 6 years,
‘mama, papa, I love you, and goodnight, and if it snows wake me up” in a desert of a country,
and then you saw it and it was there and it was real
and life was falling into place
it fell into place, the whole of life
sending shivers down your spine, as you are writing it now,
but it did do that, then.
spring was the most delirious of all.
so many reminders come with it, so many things you had forgotten.
like a child first learning how to walk,
it unfolded itself
you saw dreams and snapshots of lives never lived
turning into realities
you felt it all
embraced it all
when you came back it wasn’t like it used to be at all.
a week away, and the whole world seemed like it caught fire.
never seen a light as gold.
never touched a life as bold
the whole campus was a feast
you felt the feeling of a summer about to come that you only dreamed about in books,
nothing could be as colourful as may
reworking your thoughts through a meaning of life,
everything became apparent.
silly days and nights and moments alone with a wholeness of their own
to exist in all the ways they were allowed to.
surrounding your very existence
in endless picnics and fiestas.
you saw a red balloon and thought of enduring love
and thought that you don’t know what life will bring
in a second
or a year
you breathed flowers to keep yourself alive,
you made a home
you jumped in a river past midnight
you loved and loved all you could
all those that made you you
and so much more,
you never stopped,
here is to all the times you will leave from the train station
oh i am so very glad to be home
and you’ll take the long way home
to experience every little one of its little alleys and walk on the pavements too short for the road and look at the people through reflections having candlelit dinners
and discover new corners of fairy-dust
and souls waiting to embrace you
waiting to happen
to be breathed
and the whole of life
in a little town
where you never even thought
you would find yourself