A New World

An immigrant writes of her feelings just before departing for her new home.

Paling light caresses my bed of down
Morning mists of pearly grey have come
Wet and creeping blankets on the ground
Heralding the rising of the sun.
Nothing can I see behind the mists
Swirling, curling, holding back the dawn.
Remembering dreams of what lies behind the wisps
Through grasping fingers slip before they’re gone.
My heart rises from my deep repose
Quickened by a long journey’s beginning.
On canvas wings my flight to distant shores
On the deck of Providence I sing.
Winds of fate caress with gentle breaths
Whisper of more mysteries to the West.