I leave behind the crispy landscape of Nosara,

bumping my way to San Jose.

Tracey Chapman on the tunes came flooding my eyes to tears.

Even the bald hills nodding their farewells noticed,

as the driver offered me more air.

No air can make me breathe more free right now,

while my heart is cracking like the leaves

underfoot along the mountain path where I carried you home.

Yes, ok. I will breathe in and exhale and repeat,

And I will focus there.

We can only miss someone so much

before it becomes a posture, the body takes.

Skin. It is not the only organ that feels

when even eyes can ache.

With each passing farm, cow and field,

each Guanacaste  tree that rushes past me as we pass,

I get closer to being far away.

Who can tell when there will be air planes that fly us...

Again. To bring me back here

to this course country, where I leave my heart

beating on the doorstep of a goodbye.

 

 

July 2020