Tessa's Dharamsala Journey

ONE shadow scattered through soft layers of grey,
     spilling through clear sky
     racing past tree land
     hurtling east.

TWO breathing the thin sun, marking the flow in un
     certain heartbeats, un
     settled tugging at lost
     threads, questions left
     hanging.

THREE journeys unfolding:
     Sweet home departed. Old home, a touchstone.
     And India, gleaming in her millions,
     a swirling mirage
     on mind's horizon.

FOUR faces will sail the sky, one of this world,
     one of the other, two held betwixt,
     bound to both by long threads of heritage:
     the white cloth of Saxony,
     the white scarves of Snow Mountain.

FIVE weeks across the broad Earth: a time to
     grow, to learn, to dance, to cry, to sing, to try.
     To touch the mud and dust of
     one thousand million dreams.

May your path be smooth! May your steps be sure!
May your hearts be bright! May your days be full!
May your songs be sweet! May your stomachs be unemptied!
May your eyes be clear! May your spirits be lifted!
May your cups of promise be filled and overflowing!