Exactly Where You Were Meant to Be
You remember the first time you saw them,
strange trees, Dali-esqe in their twisted starkness,
strange flat canopies. More than the un-understandable
language that surrounded you, or the signs
that made little sense, it was the trees that said
“You are in a foreign land.”
There was an unsettledness to it.
A lack of certainty. Nowhere was there anything
familiar. You were lost even as you were
exactly where you were meant to be.
About this poem
About my first trip to Italy, which has those wonderful strange trees. About other times in my life as well, less exotic perhaps, but in which I was just as lost.
Sometimes, I have learned, being uncomfortable and out of place is a good thing.
Tom
Quarry House 
[…] A touch of wanderlust in a rainy day. The picture was taken in Cornwall England, where my son and I had rowed to a small island to explore, as children will. The reference to strange trees is a callout to yesterday’s poem. […]
Lost, even as I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
You write me so well, even though we have no idea who the other is.
This reminds me to check your pages more often.
People, pain and struggles are universal, I think, meaning we often touch people, not knowing their stories. Be well.