I've recently landed a gig in NYC and finally have some friggin' income (thank the gods). As I navigate this very new and very different chapter of my life I find myself regularly musing, reminiscing and reflecting on my time in Peace Corps Armenia. Readjustment took a long while and was at times so overwhelming my thoughts were either a jumbled mess of alphabet soup or utterly blank. Back in early April of last year we had a Close of Service conference over two and half days where we discussed readjustment and wrapping up our two years. During one session I felt that familiar whir of poetic wheels turning in my head and took pen to paper. The poem below, written then is still (as I expected it to be) my sentiment. Hope you enjoy.
We will say remember her or him, remember them?
You will laugh with your mouth wide open
head thrown back, wrinkles creasing your eyes.The cycle of counting months accumulated,
then remaining, and accumulated again far behind us.
This country’s
blaring horns and bleating sheep
its dirt and dust covering everything
its acrid smell of burning leaves and trash.
Long summer dusks and their sun darkened hands.
Winter’s lonely cloak, and Spring’s celebrated return.
Sitting silently for lack of words in either language
to describe
the roughness against our fragility
in a strange land where our history met theirs
and payment came in the form
of understanding smiles, unexpected kindness
the innocent admiration of children
and it was enough.
You will say remember?
And I will,
I will.
