In my head, the sands of Tin Merzouga blend
their red with the purple heathers of Alba.
My heart has bled its contradictions,
its longing nostalgia.
I did not choose to live alone
but alone I chose to remain.
Far winds have blown me home
but I miss the open plain,
sun drenched bones,
the joys of monsoon rain.
Life’s experiences, good and bad,
made me who I am:
this peter pan,
this lover of life, this supporter of Oxfam.
Not one for looking in the mirror,
not through fear or dread,
I know what’s there, I tread
happy in my skin,
my soul within sings each day
to the beat of the distant tambour.
116
© Sheila Ash 19th March 2017
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