This beautiful country that I’ve never visited.
The sand is black and the ocean is vast.
Culture, history preserved.
There is knowledge in Italy.
My Bible speaks its truth. The Vatican.
I crave Italy, its people, its passion.
Rhythm for the duration.
In Italy I am a foreigner.
American soul come belong.
I venture and I love.
I love inside a venture.
Italy calls to me.
I listen, though, I do not understand.
How is love? How?
I am here yet I do not see me.
Where is my country?
In the culture, this is my root. First beginnings.
Underground is a river where princes bathe there.
I dream and in the morning cleansed.
Tears hath beseeched me.
Every insecurity inside of me.
I am alone as they are upon my face.
Faces only skin deep.
Touch my face it is real yet alone.
I feel it. I know it. I call to it.
One home, another overseas.
Each reaches out a hand.