The reddening of the sky is always intensified when it’s near the horizon,
transitioning into a soothing orange at night.
It’s a loving yellow in the morning,
and a clarifying blue during the daylight.
The sky will look the same.
So the adventure begins.
I pack my bags during the mornings and prepare to leave my home, listen to Erykah and soothe my soul.
I ascend into the nights with meditation and the ideas of nothing I know.
The idea of lonely days does not scare me because I will always see what I have known.
The sky will look the same.
I will miss the air in the morning.
Miss the food and the energy, now replaced with chai and curry
The sweet flowers, roses and forget me not's during the day, and the manifestation of sweet love at night.
I’ll take pieces of what I love, and leave what I’ll miss. I’ll let go soon.
The sky will look the same.
I’ll miss my mother, someone who has never waited on adventure either.
I’ll miss the color.
I’ll miss the culture of Mac Dre and Tupac.
I’ll miss hearing the tongue of Assata and Alicia Garza, but I will learn Gandhi.
The sky will look the same.
I will see the stars.
The rain.
The sunshine.
The moon undoubtedly turned to monsoons on the warmest or coldest mornings, days, and nights.
The sky will look the same.
I know at first I won’t be able to tell the difference.
Between the colors I see.
The things I hear will be different.
The touches and smells new and free, I’ll let go soon.
The sky will look the same.
The pain of separation can be unbearable.
Or it can be everything you need.
Becoming myself means walking away from what I know.
But knowing that I will see the same sky is proof that I’m okay.
I’ll be fine.
I love you so.
