Foreign Country

He couldn’t be captured in a phrase
Or one hundred…

He was like no one,

He was like a foreign country
That you travelled through
Eerie landscapes and glistening lakes
Towards horizons
Camouflaged in mists
Precluding
Happiness
once felt
And dreamed about.

He was like a giant umbrella
In bright colors
Protective of winds and shadows
Bandaging unseen wounds
In tenderness and
Love.

Also featured at Medium.com/Blue Insights

Art – Harald Sohlberg

Reposting an old poem written in 2015

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