Afrique.

I miss the dirt upon the streets

I miss the sand forever stuck to my feet.

I miss the markets full of noise

The dusty roads and cloudy skies.

I miss the hawkers there who sell their goods,

The children running down the roads. 

I miss the eyes so bright and cheerful smiles,

The passion and the love that shines.

Lives of challenge yet hearts of hope,

A life more simple, with different trials.

A daily challenge to my western jaded heart, 

To live with faith and passion, 

To never give up Hope.

To the people of West Africa,I miss you.

Filmstrips of life.

Some say a picture speaks a thousand words,

Perhaps I am odd,but I prefer words.

Photographs show beauty in the flash of a moment,

But the truth behind a second can stay long hidden.

Where are the words that these pictures tell?

With stories of love and stories of pain,

A meaning is buried within the frame. 

A smile that hides the fear within,

Of what's to come,and time wearing thin.

A frown for a mask, to make you seem strong,

When underneath, you were crumbling down.

Eloquently speak through your picture frame glass,

Words that are silent, but shatter so loud.

Your cries to be heard have broken through,

And your steel frame face has finally moved.

You smile so beautifully and love so strong,

Perhaps I was wrong then all along.

To just be heard, and to speak out loud,
These pictures were your sound.