Poem: Spanish Mornings
I wrote this poem whilst sitting in the local Bar Costa in Ibiza enjoying a cafe con leche y pan con tomate.
It’s easy for us to feel that our ‘dreams’ are far away, myself included. The image that comes to my mind, is a donkey chasing the carrot dangling at the end of a stick. Our dreams always appear in front of us, yet we can never quite reach them. This poem, I feel, reminds us that, if we look closely, we are already experiencing what was once only a dream.
That, more often than not, we’ve already arrived at the place or experience, we’re busy trying to arrive at. Because even if the place where you are isn’t your dream right now, in what ways was it once a dream? Aren’t you already experiencing your greatest dream, to experience yourself in form? I hope you find your own answers to this question through these words.
Spanish Mornings
The bustle through the street
Intrigued by those whom I might meet
The atmosphere, greets me with enthusiasm
I feel I’m on the edge of something that could happen
Possibilities, I can’t even begin to imagine
And yet, it’s the simplicity I love
The mundane
Where everything appears as though it stays the same
But, with every breath, I know there is change
I feel this new way of being
Where I notice movement in stillness
Where experiencing life is what heals this fear
That I won’t ever be safe
That I’ll never get to taste
Or see
The life my heart speaks to me
You see it's in the stillness
Being grounded here
Enjoying these Spanish mornings
That I remember, that I’ve already arrived
Living what was once, only my dream life
with love,
Emma
If you felt supported by this poem, please leave a comment below or reach out via email, emma@emmaevelyncampbell.com and let me know what came up for you. I love to hear from people that connect with the art and words that come through me. 😊 Equally, if you feel like this poem would benefit someone close to you, please spread the love and share it with them.
If you’d like to connect more intimately with this art, you can purchase my book, 44: A Journey Through Poetry, by clicking here.
with love,
Emma
This poem reminds me of the time I spent in Southern France and Spain around this time of year a decade ago. I sat at many tables like yours, sipping coffee or wine, smoking a cigarette, full of so much wonder about my potential futures.
Now that a lot of my former questions have been answered I feel nostalgic for that season of life, the richness of the unknown, pregnant with possibility. 💗