It isn't in getting in the plane, or jumping from it.
It isn't in moving to a new country, again.
It isn't in stating over somewhere new, yet again.
It isn't in making new friends from a new culture.
It isn't in packing up your life, again, in two suitcases.

It's getting off the wrong plane.
It's in disappointing some if it means
      doing what your soul calls you to do.
It's in giving up
                           and going home.

It's in following the unknown plan, the better one,
      the one that only the Spirit can make known to you
             one step at a time.
It's in taking the road you
traveled-less.

It takes courage to take the flight from this Godforsaken city of Dublin solely on a prompting, and just because.

It takes courage to finally rest, for good. And put the suitcase in the closet, back where it came from.

My body craves it, but my mind doesn't.
Next thing you know, the bite goes down my throat.
"Why are you doing this?"
"You're a disappointment."
"You'll never reach your dreams."
"Why don't you just eat less?"
The devil on my shoulder says.

It's not easy. It's never enough. IM never enough.

"Didn't you just eat? You're eating again? "
"Why don't you eat? You've ate nothing but gum.."
"Hey, you look a little glum are you okay?"
"I miss her so much. I had just talked to her yesterday."

A WOMAN IS CRYING

in the next room
a woman is
crying

a moon
perches upon
an hotel sign

unmoved
as a new millennium
dawns as bright as neon

the woman
still crying
her unknown despair

shifting silently
from one century
to another

human grief
unchanged
from age to age

a woman
is crying
crying

*

New York with one century becoming another and in this one moment on the threshold of a new age...a woman cries her own private grief...a sorrow that has no name but seems to be the grief of all ages now and to come. I never discovered the reason for such sorrow and the neon coloured it blue and yellow and then red.

No, not soft, molten.
Bubbling up, from the bottom
Of the deepest sea.