Traveling Home

From the window of an air conditioned, cushy bus
I see Santa Barbara beaches off of flower and palm tree lined streets
Kites, surgers, sea gulls, life guards, foggy far off islands
Green mountains, tree tile covered buildings on my right
- This is my home -
But my mind leads my body to Jerusalem
Through fear and insomnia
To search for answers amongst ancient stones
Anguished rides, sweat, tears, bruises, arguments between passengers
In my journey back home.