She used to smile wide and reveal an orange rind her long hair—grey and straight—gently hanging down her spine She'd make us...

Up the peeling bark we go down again, we all do fall fast or slow, we grow or forego climb up again we make the crawl some in sight,...

There lives a kind man with wavy, silver hair and a latin tongue that speaks volumes of romance even when ordering simple pasta with red...

There was a young Mozambican man who carved beautiful birds out of wood. They stood tall and stately—some with elegant bent beaks, all...

Old and barnacled by salted winds that blow —and ancient wood docks with cracked floors that whisper bittersweets from yesterdays before....

Worn by a good life —swept by time and place and hearts that glow in the heat of the night And arms that embrace and eyes that don't...

I once met the gaze of a man watching me as we moved courageously across the land— in plane, bus and armed check points— it was always...

To dream a dream that’s never been to be the story that you’re in re-read the lines written on page— the subtle ones inspired like a sage...

The strip and curve of Waikiki—with its swanky designer stores along Kalakaua and its glistening, almost fully human-made beach of clear...

Two start as one, held by clasping hands like roots of ancient trees and sweet memories that linger in the breeze as whispering dreams...

My heart beats and longs beyond its space awaiting the presence of a grounding face the knowing curve of my tea cup’s ring the warm...

Did I see you glowing, landing just near my side, bringing me memories washed up like the tide You, dancing that well-honed tune— that...

I wait for you on soft ground as words float off my moleskin page and flowing water trickles through cracks of time and place, as...

There is a depth that keeps us close and ever far without approach It wanders across worn cobblestones, cold concrete and windswept paths...

The village was buzzing with the musings of everyday, as the rhythm of the pestle hit the bottom of the mortar—the clap in the...

I walk the same land with wind in my face and wind at my back —the rhythm the same, or not the rocks line the scape the waves crash the...

Words flow from me like a persistent whisper sharing the secret melody of a soul or a song whose perfect rhythm stays for long living in...

I once lived in a far off culture where the ceremony of arrival was full of tradition—the host breaks the pink kola nut cut into small...

Under the shade of a willing tree there he sits, young but seeing working the palms with his little hands, as his culture unfolds a life...

I met a kind man in 1991. He had travelled across a large swath of land in Mozambique some years before, stepping over the borderline of...

There is a memory of a river—long and deep—remote and isolated but full of the things it is meant to carry—in a place ever swallowed by...

The keys of the piano play softly from its strings, deeply, persistently the melody of a thousand steps drifting across the floors of...

Today I wandered endlessly along unknown paths —as yesterdays I've done before. To meet with courage and hear the silence and haunting...

Mistaela Correia was born in 1954 in Gorongosa. When he was 12 years old his grandfather died. As was customary, his family made a...