Fish

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The beauty here relentlessly assaults all my senses; externally, pleasing to the eye. I feel the heat of the spice oils on my skin. There are the exotic sultry scents of Asia; on you and me and in the people and places you take me, so delicious, with taste so hot and sweet, every part teasing the taste buds.

Never let me tire of the silky cinnamon curry skins; invading my thoughts. These are the colours that influences all my fantasies.

Like the sun that lightly caresses the sea in one moment, and in another it sleeps and dreams about the catch of the day, perched upon wooden stilts sitting high above the waves casting out, waiting for the ocean to release it’s bounty. With each fish, thanking Buddha not just for the fish, but for the water, for the sky, for the fire and for the knowledge and the wisdom of the fishes.

And how happy it makes me to be with you in a land of so many, how the land returns so much; to describe the word “plenty,” it’s hard to put into words, but where there is great hope and love and promise too, in Sri Lanka, where feeding the family comes first, where fish is nourishment and life and survival and everything.

And then there is us; we are together at last and the love between us is great with plenty of fish and I think that being “us” is all I’ll ever want or need.

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