Lovers

In this picture I am wandering under the old city walls that surround Sultanahmet. Behind me are strewn cobbled streets, colourful wooden houses, tea houses and minarets. In front of me is my lady Bosphorus, gazing out towards Asia.

I remember this day perfectly and, in particular, looking at the blue waves licking the rocky shore. I remember thinking how they had come from other lands and how they would return over and over again.

I thought of my Shams.
And of Rumi.

“Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.”

And so  now I know that this city has always been in my blood. 

And I know too that when I dip my toes in the shallows of foreign water, I will be dipping them in my Lady once again. For we we will never be apart. Her waters and my blood are one and the same.

Even though I miss her. And my heart is broken now.