I will paint the scene

First off-- there's a new video! Check the top of this blog under the words "My life in Tanzania." It should be the video on the far left box.

Now, I feel like I've been writing about a lot of very trivial events and failing to mention the more emotional elements of my day. I wrote some poetry and prose recently in my journal, so I thought I would copy them here. The first is a poem and the second is just me writing about myself in third person. Someone looking down at my world one night. Hope you enjoy.

Take me

09/05/11

A surging wave of wind and dust thrusts against these walls

And seems to mock my stormy mind with boastful crests and falls

Reminds me still that nothing’s still and will steal me from my aim

Demands my mind to change its pace and wonder from where it came

Is this a new deep breath of air that should freeze me once again?

Is this that born trust of unfamiliar who, looking back, shall be a friend?

Fatigue fills my eyes and hair; I breathe, slow-soft and calm.

I see it now: we shall never arrive... and life ebbs slowly on,

With an always-desire, always-need to fill a bottomless bowl—

Embracing this nature, I open myself and hush my breath amidst this lull

Silent, though, I remain, I burst internally—

Shouting to the universe (I shudder)… again, here please, take me.

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I will paint the scene: a young woman with gently worn makeup, disheveled hair, and weary yet contently heavy eyes lies tucked beneath warm blankets, beneath a silvery billowing mosquito net, beneath sturdy and dusty walls, beneath the bright stars and full moon of an Arusha night sky. She lies in complete comfort, surrounded only by the light of her small burning flashlight, writing easily in her journal and absorbing the cool smooth music of Arvo Part. The silky and clear voices of a choir build and bellow into her ears, causing her to often pause and close her eyes to feel the fullness and sinew of the voices and echoes. Outside, an occasional wind builds and impresses its power against the strong walls and flittering tree leaves, while dogs announce their news in always-distant rough barks and howls. A full belly rests within the girl, and a full heart, holding memories, questions, and faint worries. Her mind quickly weaves between desires of an understanding and an understanding that so much should not be understood now. Listen to the voices. Wake up. Seize. Do not worry. Breathe. The wind, just then. All of these speak to her. And how she wishes that each person had a purpose and knew it well.