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“Farsickness rough translation of fernweh (Ger): the opposite of homesickness. Imagine a love turned out as bread best cast to the rivers, feedings for smaller, far-flung things— fire-flights of stillness, forms alighting, then airborne, until the breeze begins to feel like hunger, the wayward sweep of desire— for the holy wheel rotating foot, breath, and earth, the pilgrim's chaff, frayed and heliocentric, in need of distance as a horizon of prayer to both call and receive.” — Megan Harlan
Farsickness
rough translation of fernweh (Ger):
the opposite of homesickness.
Imagine a love turned out
as bread best cast
to the rivers, feedings
for smaller, far-flung things—
fire-flights of stillness,
forms alighting, then airborne,
until the breeze begins
to feel like hunger,
the wayward sweep of desire—
for the holy wheel
rotating foot, breath, and earth,
the pilgrim's chaff,
frayed and heliocentric,
in need of distance
as a horizon of prayer
to both call and receive.