Saturday, December 8, 2012

oh, my suitcase heart





Oh, my suitcase heart
I could pack it up
And move far away
Far away where no one knows my name.
Oh, my suitcase heart
It's searching for a purpose
Searching for a meaning
Searching for an adventure.
Dusty dirt roads and foreign words
Call my heart to come explore.
Faces of people I don't know
Beckon with a smile.
Oh, my suitcase heart
Longs to be lost in city streets
And wander in forgotten trees.
Oh, my suitcase heart 
Overcomes my logic's mind.
I'm a slave to its wanderlust.
a poem by tessa brooke
december 2012



Identity

It's amazing how the allure of unknown places can lay hold on you, almost consuming you at times.  The idea of being anonymous in a place unknown to me is intriguing.  I want to wander and explore.  I want to take pictures of all the people I meet and freeze all the memories I make with a press of my finger.  I want to stand in awe as I look over mountains my feet have never explored.  I want to go on a journey.  I want to rediscover myself and understand why God put me here.  I want to give into my suitcase heart and it's wanderlust.

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