Beloved home, northwest has never looked so good as it does on you.
Perfectly groomed. You’re smooth, so smooth.
“Let’s dance,” you tempt and I’m swept off my feet.
We can draw these lines for all time, with this rhythm underneath.
But dear home, what will happen when I have to leave,
When northwest will feel the same no more?
Shall I cling to the breeze and hope that southeast will set me free,
Or keep dreaming of you in my sleep?
Perhaps I should bottle you up, oh northwest wind, and take you where I go.
Or maybe with time my heart will mend and I just won’t miss you so.
But for now, dear wind, share a wind whisper across the seas.
That I might see a little of you in these new places and feel a little more at ease.
This ode was written just before I made a move overseas. It was an iconic day at home—perfect waves, perfect sky, perfect wind, perfect company. I wasn’t moving to get away from home. I was moving for something new. Grieving home was always going to be part of the process.
Read Rachel’s first poem with Nouvelle Vague, “Courage”.