Tidbits

It took me an hour and a half to get through customs in Uganda, and I didn't meet up with Lanyero until 11:30.  We had a two hour ride back to her house, and I was operating on maybe an hour of sleep in who knows how many hours. 

Lanyero asked me if I wrote poetry, surprised, I said yes.  She requested that I write a poem for the Relief Society activity on Saturday about Mary, the mother of Christ.  I agreed, and I wrote a poem, even though I was horribly embarrassed.  I usually write poetry about heartbreak, and writing it for a bunch of strangers was not what I had in mind.  I have since deleted the poem, which I feel a small amount of regret about, but not enough to try to conjure up what I wrote. 

I learned that you will agree to practically anything when driving the bumpy roads of Uganda at 12:30 am in a complete stranger's car who you will be living with for the next two weeks. 

In any case, I do like to write poems, and although it's a little vulnerable to be doing this at all, I have written a few lines that I just love:

"I went home feeling broken and unfixable, and you came out of the blue.  Carrying only a hammer, but was enough to fix me.  I didn't know it would eventually shatter me, since everything is a nail."

"What happens when you're in a foreign country, so the only reading you can do is between the lines."

"The tired part of me nods, and knows that it was never about the equator."

"And I just have to ask, is there anything lonelier than the Cafe Rio line on a Monday after work?"

"I feel like they are chinks in my armor that leave me exposed, but I wonder if those small holes are letting God in."

"Maybe the secret truly is living long and existing wide and hoping to find a spot that is large enough to allow you to breath deep breathes, instead of absent-minded sighs."

xo. Elise