The word: Passion
In Mexico City this past week, sitting in a lush courtyard (insert bird-song here), my toddler daughter and I made fast friends with a woman named Tanya who had recently moved with her husband from Calgary to a small town a few hours out of Mexico City. I asked if she felt lonely so far from home. She said she had expected to – but no, she answered. Not at all.
The Stranger: Tanya
Her word: Passion
The poem I wrote:
We the good animals, we who know
what it takes to eat well – we are hard
at work training our eyes.
Just look for the coconut,
we animals say. Look
at the hanging hocks of meat.
No, says the poet who is determined
to starve. Look for the lime blossoms.
Look for the right words. You know
certain stars come out only if you
are looking sideways. Look/don’t look
for those. There is meat to eat,
and there are colors that come out
when your vision refuses
the straight line:
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.