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A Poem for Europe, written in reflection in March 2011:
It has been a long time since I felt you,
saw you, smelled you,
beheld you.
And it is difficult to recall all the ways you inspired me,
but in small corners of the day
you seek me out
And I find that I long for you the way a child
longs for home after being away for some time.
In those moments, light fills my soul, soothes my mind,
and sways my body to the rhythm of life on your shores.
And in those moments, I remember all of you
without recalling a specific instance of pleasure.
I do not think of a stroll down Las Ramblas,
rather I hear the laughs and the music echo around me.
I do not explan the poignancy of Omaha Beach,
rather I smell the sand and the salt in the air.
I do not retrace my climb up the Matterhorn,
rahter I taste the fresh water from its spring.
I do not articulate the excitement of Berlin,
rather I feel the beat of the music
and the weariness of my eyes going to sleep at dawn.
I do not describe the Charles Bridge
or other beauties of Prague,
rather I see the cobblestone at my feet.
For you are not a memory,
you are a part of me;
an experience within.
And though you are beautiful and old
and many have walked with you before,
my time on your soil, you streets, your peaks,
is all my own
to enjoy in the quiet morning
before the day steals my mind
and I hide you away for safekeeping.
-Bethany Silva
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