Pico Iyer, according to the New York Times Book Review, is “a post-modern traveler, rooted nowhere and moving in order to disprove the illusion of home. Travel for him is a metaphysical project—a meditation on space, a sermon on our estrangement.”
Tuburan, Cebu, Philippines
I do think that home is an illusion, an illusion that I’m contented to have.
With the incessant tales of departures and arrivals in our lives, we come to accept and live with them.
After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises,
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes open
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
and you learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure.
That you really are strong.
And you really do have worth.
And you learn. And learn.
With every good-bye you learn.
—Jorge Luis Borges
Translated by Veronica A. Shoffstall
Friday Poetry translates a personal experience that reminds me of a line or an entire poem.
YOUR HELP REACHES PLACES. A DOLLAR CAN GO A MILE. LITERALLY. 🙂 “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things,” says Henry Miller. But a dollar can go places. 😉
Help BWAB weave more narratives, encounter more interesting characters, and frame more places and memories. Thank you.