Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Why Do I Travel?

Excerpts from a poem written by NYC sculptor, Sana† Musama.

It is on the road that my inner voice speaks the loudest and my heart beats the strongest.

It is on the road that I take extra pride in my wooly hair, full features and lineage.

It is on the road that I develop extra senses and the hairs on my arms stand up and say "Sana, don't go there", and I listen.

Its when I safety pin my money to my underclothes and count it a million times before I go to sleep,

It is on the road that I am a poet, an ambassador, a dancer, medicine woman, an angel and even a genius.

Its on the road that I am fearless and unstoppable and if necessary ball up my fist and fight back.

It is on the road that I talk to my deceased parents and they speak back

Its on the road that I reprimand myself, and set new goals, refuel stop and begin again.

It is on the road that I experience what freedom truly is.

It is my travel that has transformed me making me a citizen of the world. When my humanness, compassion and affection are raised to a new level and I share unconditionally.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

‎"There's a race of men that don't fit in,

A race that can't sit still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin, 

And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and rove the flood,

...And they climb the mountain's crest;

Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood,

And they don't know how to rest."

~ Robert W. Service ~