Postcards to Myself (part I)


My mind is an avalanche
Of places I will never go
And people I will never be…

Pangong Lake, Ladakh

So serene
as I slip off shoes
All the better to feel
Smooth grey stones
Hot against my tender feet
A soft breeze
And reflections of cotton clouds
In azure water
They enfold me

As I follow this path
Anticipation flows through me
There is much more to come
I breath India

Living Root Bridges, Meghalaya

Created from living roots
The far away brothers
Of my childhood tree
My own tree
That cradled me in his great arms
I feel him here with me
As I cross
And as I press my cheek to bark
Eyes closed I hear the wind and water
I feel the earth
So similar and yet so unlike home
I breath India

Almora, Uttarakhand

Adorned by so many temples built by hand
Yet your peaks are temples in their own right
Yes, I see you
I hear your worship
More powerful than any created by man
You stand as a testament to real power
And beauty
A beauty almost too sharp to comprehend
I lift my arms in reflection
Of your great height
And we are all raised to the skies
You, the birds, the trees, and I
I breath India

Indian Ghost Town of Bhangarh, Rajasthan

I wander this long abandoned city
And the little girl in me is thrilled to life
So many secret places explored
By my adventurous little heart
No lock kept this child out
Something about the lost and forgotton
Croons to be seen by my eyes alone
And so now this ghost of a town
Has beckoned me to her mysteries
Only I appreciate the magic
Long stored in still warm walls
My fingers seek it out
My body hears the song
I breath India

-LM Jones
(what I listened to as I wrote this


Innocence and the Ghost


I dreamt of a little blonde thing
With the ocean in her eyes
I followed and heard her sing
Off key notes drifting in skies

She didn’t  seem to care who heard
It was her gift to the trees
Where she perched with the birds
Tangled hair and skinned knees

I watched as if trapped in a slow haze
Her world, so vivid, even at night
In memory it’s all just a daze
Of sweet smelling fields, golden and bright

I watched as she skipped through winding creeks
And bare feet flew over red dirt paths
Outside her kingdom they knew her as meek
Here, even the breeze echoed her laughs

I trailed the sound of her joy
As ethereal as the light on her hair
A moment I’d never destroy
But suddenly she turned and saw me there

Like a mirror in a funhouse, we faced
It was a strange version of herself she viewed
Innocence met tired eyes and lines of sorrow traced
Innocence rejected reality, “I will never be you!”

-LM Jones