Silence blankets
Warm bodies with
Cold, clear stars
On the rocky,
Chilled steppe.
Quiet whispers
In tongues
Not yet familiar
With my
Mind.
The taste of
Boiled milk
From the stove
Lingers
In the house.
Fires warm
While the darkness
Chills;
Smoke rises
Ever higher.
Miles above where
I used to live
Is where
I live
Now.
Composed 06/06/2012
Author’s Note: I made a bet with myself to write one poem a day for the entirety of my preservice training. I was inspired after I heard another PCV say that she wished she had kept a journal of her time in training. Figuring that everyone would be doing this, I thought I’d take an alternative route: poetry.
After spending the day traveling to site, meeting my family, and having them bombard me with questions in Mongolian (with my only response being to repeat what they said and to follow with “What is this?”), I settled into my room.
I wish I had a picture of the night sky for this poem. I’ll have to take more pictures before it gets too cold.
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Two Second Street 
They is no place like home. Old voices, smells and knowing the safety of home. I enjoyed the poem and I like the photo. Thank you for sharing the story in the poem.
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Thank you! I’m glad that you liked the poem and the picture.
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