They told me a year had passed

By David Mint

I sat on the terrace in Les Planes,

Staring blankly at the wooded hills

Beyond the train station

Pondering all that had occurred

I’d arrived in the dead of winter,

Without expectations,

Without plans,

completely unprepared

I’d resisted the change,

Defiant,

Trapped in my ways,

Until the day that I was broken

At the point of death,

I sat waiting at Sant Pau,

And soiled myself,

Shortly after I’d been called

As I lay in the dungeon,

Of the modernist gem,

Life dripped back into my veins,

Yet only to a point

I arose,

A changed man,

A blank page,

Humbled

I was free to travel,

Learn,

Serve,

And to love,

Free to explore,

Llançà, Huesca

Contra Corriente, El Lokal, L’Estudi,

Les Heures, Ligonde

Yet it is the people,

The love,

The Spirit which we share,

That remains

I met my true love,

Now this dream will never end,

We march forward and do not look back

Two becoming one,

I sat on the terrace in Les Planes,

Staring blankly at the wooded hills

They told me a year had passed,

And I did not believe them