A Foreign Land

When I look back, I do not recognise myself.  The young woman is a foreign land, she moves among mountains in dark gorges unknown in my open landscape.  In what way am I her?  What connects us? I do not identify with her, perhaps because I do not choose to.  Far easier to identify and find myself in Berlin’s laughing eyes and summer sun.  But undoubtedly she has helped to shape the container I now find myself in.  Her landscape is a place I take great care not to wander into now, but the experience of it provokes not the darkness, but the light that was needed to dispel it: compassion and love in particular.