A Wanderers Place

This is my second poem written since coming here. The first was written on a scrape of paper after I heard the first gunshots coming from the Hills the first month I was here. We found out later ANSF forces were clearing the area. Suffice it to say, I was nervous and the poem was about keeping jackals at bay. The first thought that came into my head was the thought of wolves coming down from the hills and surrounding us. I sent the poem in a letter to my parents - who I believe lost it. But the memory of writing it stays with me.

This poem was written during a rehearsal for a brief. My mind wanderered and I thought again of the hill surrounding our area...and the people who live there. The nomads and all I know of them from living near yet apart from them...


A Wanderers Place

they say, Gypsies live in the hills
above the valley
and set night fires to hold back the chill
their smoke signals snaking to the Stars
to spot
a Wanderers place
they say, Gypsies live in the hills who run when forced to flee
belongings strapped across backs stooped and weary
for Being unrecognized
their claim as shifting as their Nature
what greater claim to land than to know
the feel of well trod paths
and Earth on unbound feet?
to rest, to set fires
to spot
a Wanderers place

-          N. Christensen, 2013