“A place belongs to the one who has most deeply
loved it, they said, has hoped in it beyond
it’s self corruption. The land, the people, the city
is his if his nights are for recalling it,
calling it in tears of aloneness and amazed
thanksgiving, that luck let him kiss it in his childhood,
that it grew into him, is him, that he still wants
to have it, save it, he wonders what it knows
tonight, right now, how it is with that place,
if it’s happy, dying, dead.”

That is a part of a poem called “Place” by A. F. Mortiz.

This afternoon, I had a meeting with Tammy, one of my professors.
We were supposed to talk about Global Citizenship, but instead we talked about weddings and jobs and graduation.
I told her it felt weird to be graduating and she said:
“This is probably the only time in your life where you will be leaving a place that you feel completely happy and comfortable and safe at. What a conflicting feeling.”
She said that in real life people don’t leave places where they feel at home.
People don’t leave jobs where they are happy
or towns that they love,
generally.
They only leave when things aren’t right.
And this is a place that feels right.
And that’s why it’s hard.
It made sense.

Everyone says the next few months will be a flash.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 15th, 2006 at 7:28 pm and is filed under photos, the quiet, peaceful village. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.