I had chosen my bag br I had packed my things br and leaving I sensed the drag br of memory, past's belongings br br Who said this was goodbye not farewell? br Who prayed this was a choice and freewill? br Could a forced and definite departure br become the start of a new adventure? br br I had covered my wounds br and my spine was in splints br a home was left into ruins br and love seemed lost to sins br br Who said this would only last a while? br Who prayed this pain was not an exile? br Could hard and blunt expulsion br be anything else but repulsion? br br I walked away from memory lane br and behind me the roads were shut br windows barred, future was framed br and all lines of life were irrevocably cut br br Wandering aimlessly without a home br but for whatever remains I had packed, br under cloudless skies and a starry dome br a yearning for healing still nagged. br br And only two quiet eyes were of need, br two hands able to give as well as to receive, br two ears to hear of what I would speak, br just one tongue and sweet words to perceive. br br Miracles can occur when carrying pieces of home, br for it's not just you on this road, it's not so alone. br It must have been pleasing to some unwordly will; br at the roadside where, for a moment, I stood still. br br In these eyes I saw mine, br and two hands I did find, br my words no longer fell unheard, br and pain a soft voice did cure.