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