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

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.