retracing ancestral steps
I find my signature written across the world

I am the ancestor of myself
inside me

before I knew this name
I lived

in New Zealand on ancient Maori totems
my eyes are carved

Hindu statues of Bali laugh when I approach
recognizing an old friend

inside Bandelier cliff dwellings a fire burns
welcoming me home

in Nepalese temples the stones
call to me in dreams

Indigenous Peoples cave paintings
my hands ache

I look in wonder at what I created
only forgotten

I cannot see until I step outside
the continent of me

In soil, water and blood
I reflect

forming a new once again
renaming myself

over and over I become
part of this land

creating stories of pasts
about where the I was born

yet, a myth
all along

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad slow traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her travel blog/publication TravelArtistsHub.

RETRO-MIGRATION was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

there is a Peace here

a kind that I’ve never experienced

not like a sound Peace

because everyday

kids in the courtyard are

screaming + running + playing

dogs howl and bark incessantly

buses drive by every few minutes

cars honk constantly

old women talk-yell at one another

and the person living upstairs

drags feet and furniture

plays jacks on the floor

and randomly drops bowling balls

all day + night long

at least that’s what I picture happening

no — this kind of Peace

makes me take long deep breaths

like everything is in its right place

people are just living

going about their daily lives

walking in daydreams

so much so

they never move aside when someone is

passing on the sidewalk

and they never walk at a fast pace either

no — most people slowly stroll along

looking at the beautiful architecture

admiring the colorful tiles on buildings

stopping to say hello to

neighbors + friends

with a kiss on each cheek

sometimes

accompanied by a hug

and a smile

not everyone

but most smile

greeting one another with a

bom dia good morning

boa tarde good afternoon

boa noite good evening

but this Peace I speak of

can’t be defined or touched

it’s a feeling — yet it isn’t

it’s an expression — yet it isn’t

it’s a knowing — yet it isn’t

I can’t quite explain

but it fills me

and at times I feel

so full

it wells up inside my chest

embodying

warm + cool

at the same time

then I reminisce about

the children and parents walking hand-in-hand

the homeless man eating a homemade sandwich

the street musician with her guitar case filled with coins

the elderly escorted arm-in-arm by the young

the couples entwined lovingly on park spring grasses

and I well up=full

so full

I feel it spilling out of my heart

into the World

and I know

Peace is alive

— Porto, Portugal

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her arts & travel blog/publication at TravelArtistsHub.

Peace Is Alive was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

city locals cheer as

the rains come down

their faces turned to sky

arms raised dancing

some cry joy

after long months of sun drying

making lips land concrete

parched + crack

finally

sea winds bring clouds

streets flood into night

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her new travel blog/publication Travel Artists Hub.

Saigon Rain Welcoming was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

snow on Kansas plains

speeding speeding speeding

temps drop 40

on the cusp of

Colorado

cold turnstile windmills in

southern winds

birds catch winged turns

angle up + dodging trucks

tails and spots dot eyes as

sun sets west

we drive into the never ending

speeding speeding speeding

road gold + pink moment

breath of glow under

wisping clouds

over farmhouses nestle

outlines of pines framing

skylines + blind eyes

glaring glances of time

speeding speeding speeding

shifting day into night

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her new travel blog/publication Travel Artists Hub.

Chasing Sunset was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

After a long night of drinking

So much more than I ever do

But I am determined to be different

in my habits from now on —

Drinks filled with

pomegranate + starfruit + vodka

Tasted so sweet on my jetlagged tongue

smiles + laughter shared

the 4 of us

under the rose apple tree

as bats flittered by chaotically

and a toad hopped on cobblestone

The glow of the light blue pool reflected

the evening damp patio where we sat

Under a green umbrella

rain water dripped from edges

upon my bare shoulders

Many hours later

when the rain stopped

and the birds went silent

We wandered out of the courtyard

Through the garden gate

down an alley

on to the street

to visit a food cart with 8 tables

owned by a man, his wife and son

In woks they threw fresh

squid + clams + pork

tofu + veggies + noodles

With each new dish the oil splattered

creating fires that leapt

so high

flames licked and ran across

the umbrella of the Chef’s stand

Onlookers dodged the flames

and his wife startled

burst out laughing

as the fire singed the last of her

lashes + brows + bangs

We seated ourselves and dined

on what I can only describe

as one of the best meals

I’ve ever had

Afterwards

stuffed + thankful

We walked home to sit on

couches + bean bags + a chez lounge

listened to old vinyl records

and a melodic lullaby of our host playing

Indian + US country inspired guitar

the plucked strings sent us off to sleep

In the guest room

we crawled into our bed

knowing the time change would cause difficulties

But never imagined we would awaken at 5am

longing for one another

We made love

as the Burmese puppets

smiled + stared

and a sacred wood carving of

the God of Fertility

enchanted the room

Dawn began to show her face shortly after

we fell back into the sheets with sighs of relief

loves kiss placed on

lips + hands + napes

Then back to slumber

only to be shortly awakened again by music of

Thai farmers marching streets

shouts + drum beats

as they headed towards the King’s palace

All brought on by a foreign visitor

the US President wanting to talk Corporate deals

From my bedroom window balcony

Tibetan prayer flags strewn wisping

butterflies + birds flew

landed on rooftops

and settled into trees

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her new travel blog/publication Travel Artists Hub.

Bangkok: Morning Reflection was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

dogs nap under bus stop benches

oil covered mechanics squat in engines

a Ladyboy dabs smeared makeup with white tissue

canal boats cut through murky trashed waters

blue tarps drawn to keep water from splashing

sandals teeter boat edge as hands hold ropes

water ride ends and street walk leads to temple

walking mediation surrounded by Buddhas

peaceful shrines in buildings

rooftops overlooking Bangkok laundry

flowers + golden Buddha amulets hang from taxi dashboards

gallery paintings show little fine dressed girls with

blood running down their legs holding

bloody barbies with goldfish at their feet

a Sea Goddess embraces her enormous sagging breasts

on congested street corners mothers beg for change

on bridges a baby sleeps in a mother’s crossed legs

blankets unfold into department stores

coconut ice cream cools damp skin under wet t-shirts

butterflies dance in dozens on rose apple trees

ice melts raspberry vodka into pomegranate juice

a Dog named Pepsi is adorned with

black eyebrows of a deity

bowls of noodles simmer under upright peace signs

crumbling walls with generations of smoke-tar molded stains

foggy glass pictures of family under shrines proclaiming

Buddha is you

traffic slows at noon as fishballs roll down throats

laughter pitches high with a mispronounced ca

60 Baht buys lunch + a yellow fleshed watermelon

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her new travel blog/publication Travel Artists Hub.

Bangkok was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Bali is an island in Indonesia that has been called “Heaven on Earth” for its skylines of volcanoes, lush jungles and cascading tiers of rice fields. It is truly an idyllic paradise with beautiful Hindu and Muslim peoples and cultures, ornate temples and mosques, wonderful artwork, music and dances, but with the latest economic explosion bringing an influx of foreign tourists, investors and developers, the expansion is changing the landscape and culture rapidly. Amidst all the building and changes, however, slices of traditional Balinese life can still be witnessed.

The Hindu philosophy of living harmoniously with one another, the natural environment and the spirit realm, Tri Hita Karana (“Three ways to reach spiritual and physical well-being”), was very apparent throughout Bali. When my partner and I arrived in Ubud, a Hindu town known by locals as the “spiritual heart of the island,” we were awed by the grand meru (towers), adorned statues, shrines and temples, as well as the elaborate and colorful processions with sounds of gamelan (traditional percussion orchestra music) filling the streets. Celebrations of life, death, nature, ancestors, Hindu gods and deities and Buddhas can be witnessed daily.

For six weeks, we rented a lovely, small house owned by a very kind and caring Hindi family. It overlooked the rice fields situated in a small village just about 10 minutes outside of Ubud center. They welcomed us with hands pressed together at hearts and heads bowed, Om Swastiastu (“peace and greetings from God”). They treated us as their own family members, and every day they came wearing colorful patterned sarongs with flowers behind their ears, and bija (a few grains of wet rice placed on the third eye). With Canang sari offerings they waved burning incense and splashed holy water blessings upon the family shrines outside the house and in the rice fields.

Our eco-living space was open-air, and the living room was lined by a tropical garden. In the rafters lived several geckos and a large lizard that we named Siggy, after Sigmund Freud, because he was always hanging out examining us while we laid on the daybed and liked to leave little presents for us to pick up in the morning. Dragonflies, butterflies and bees flittered in and out, and our bathtub always seemed to have a trail of marching ants looking for water. Local cats and dogs often came through the house to just say hello, looking for scratches and a little love. Nights were filled with angelic floating fireflies and serenades from choirs of cicadas, crickets, lizards and frogs.

We were so immersed in nature that when I looked out on the rice fields surrounded by jungle, sprinkled with coconut and banana trees, I thought I might witness an elephant roaming or monkeys hanging from branches, but that was all in the past. Nestled at the edge of town in Ubud there is the Mandala Suci Wenara Wana (Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary). There the monkeys still run free by a river ravine and temple, once in a while making their ways to the outskirts of the jungle near the villages.

Rice in Bali

The main staple of food in Bali is rice; it’s grown three times a year and eaten at every meal. The rice terraces make up the majority of the landscape in Ubud, including our backyard. One day the village women came to harvest the rice and invited me to join them. Although I was completely unprepared, I gleefully accepted.

Barefoot, I stepped into the thick, slimy mud and they handed me a large bundle of rice stalks. As I slapped the long grasses over and over against the side of the big woven basket, I was amazed at how easily the rice fell off. The women laughed at my childish excitement and kept bringing me more until flurries from the rice husks irritated my eyes and caused a coughing fit.

Then they let me try my hand at cutting the stalks with a hand-held sickle but got frustrated with me because I was slowing them down. Realizing I was not cut out for the job, I reluctantly retreated back to my living room where I sat and watched as they cleared the entire field in one afternoon. On woven bamboo palates, they sifted out the remainder of the grasses and then filled large sacks full of rice and carried them home balanced on their heads. At home, they dumped the rice out on large tarps laid out in the sun to dry.

The days following the harvest, a village man came and set fire to the remaining dry grasses and then flooded the rice fields with water channeling from the subak (irrigation), a thousand-year-old canal that runs throughout Bali flowing from natural springs through sacred temples into the villages. Then two young boys came to wade and stuck their arms deep into the water and started hunting by hand and filled a bucket with worms the size of small snakes. Shortly after a herder, carrying a long staff with a white piece of fabric attached to the tip, ushered hundreds of ducklings into the field to do their share in helping prepare and fertilize the rice paddy for the next the planting.

The ducks waddled in quacking and honking, soon setting to work irrigating the land as they dug their beaks and webbed feet into the watery sludge, gobbling up worms, eels and insects. When the ducks had completed their work, a couple more men brought a huge ox pulling a plow and laboriously turned the soil and old roots until the field looked like creamy pudding. The rice paddy was flooded again and after the mud settled, they planted blessed rice foundlings, filling the field one by one with perfectly straight rows of green sprouts. Within a week the new grasses began to grow and within a month the stalks were almost fully grown again.

Although the women harvested and the men plowed and planted in this particular village, this is not always the case — everyone helps in the process. Sometimes whole families worked the rice fields together. We were touched by the immense family and community connection and collaboration.

The continued passing down of Balinese ideals, customs and rituals from the elders to the young still runs strong in Ubud. But, with technology and the industrialized world luring many of the younger generation into new careers, fewer Balinese young adults are choosing to become rice farmers and many voiced their concerns about who will tend the rice fields in the future.

To us it seemed that the Balinese rice farmers were always working in the fields and it was clear that the labor was back breaking and the days long and hot but somehow they always seemed to be smiling. While the rice was growing, they used that time to create amazing handcrafted artwork, silver jewelry, batik and ikat clothing and textiles, wood and stone carvings and intricate paintings depicting landscapes, religious and village life. Maybe they had found the balance in living the way of Tri Hita Karana.

— Story was originally published in OneGlobe Citizen (2016)

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her new travel blog/publication Travel Artists Hub.

Ubud, Bali: A Little Bit of Heaven was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

where the west ends

land and sands

meet edge of sea

white sailboats coast summer

breeze in fleets

surfers masquerading as seals

catch curls and cruise like dolphins

seagulls frolic sun-kissed shoreline

sounding waves of percussion

white break foam turns over

crashing + lapping

children chase tide

kicking + screaming + laughing

in salty hazy mist they

jump and screech

as cold ocean splashes about

ankles and feet

tired worn faces of

fathers and mothers

journey from sand

into cold blue waves

they turn backs to stand

trying to remain a proper

woman or man

but force is too much —

teeth revealed as the corners of

mouths turn up

eyes begin to soften

frown lines become smooth

footing loosened as water withdrawals

digging grooves

soaked from head to toe

each one gives in

falling back into

floating to swim

parents catch children in

towels open armed

with hugs they are

comforted + warmed

sandcastles return back

into sea

along with lover’s hearts etched

in grains of beach

glow of silent setting

sun slowly creeps

behind mountain peaks

rays cascade

winged cranes

caravan and fade

into painted clouds streaked

pink orange and peach

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her new travel blog/publication Travel Artists Hub.

Venice Beach was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Last night we finished packing

and dispersing our belongings to family

My hands are chapped

fingertips raw + tender from moving

All of our worldly belongings stored

I am promising myself not to unpack —

not for many years

I also picked up the cremation boxes of

our departed animal family

and stored their remains at my nephew’s house

He kept joking that our bags felt heavy

like filled with dead bodies

as we dragged them into his basement

Then I showed him the boxes of ash

and he burst out laughing

We had a wonderful last dinner —

With our family surrounding us

I sat and listened to their entertaining

banter + laughter + sarcasm

and suddenly became peaceful knowing

I would be parting in the morning

Heading for a new life

that has no past or future

After we boarded the airplane

stuffed our backpacks into the overhead

and settled into our Exit row seats

He opened the SkyMall magazine

full of kitsch for sale

and found a black box to purchase

that says when opened

Looking good Bob

You sure are sexy Bob

You’re the man Bob

a personalized BOB ice tray

and a t-shirt that says

Of course I’m right

I’M BOB

I grabbed his arm and said

“What if we really are in the Matrix

and you open a magazine & see this…”

And he replied

“Ahhh!”

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces a monthly literary and music show called Poems, Prose and Pints at Dressel’s Public House. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November.

Nearly Departed was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

He pulled out the last of the roots

which had grown deep in city soil

Our house

no longer ours

My clothes

draped on another woman’s body

My bed

now someone else’s mattress

He pulled the roots with such force

I could feel the pain

separating from the Earth

My muscles ached and my eyes winced

the last of fear dripped from my tear ducts

Carefully he gathered me in his hands

my roots tangled around me like a nest

placed me into a container

with the other goods

Then we departed

destined for

nowhere

KM Sharp is a poet, writer, MSW, activist, producer and photographer originally from Saint Louis, Missouri, moved to Los Angeles, California and now lives as a digital nomad traveling and exploring the world. She received a BA in Communications from University of Colorado and a MSW from Saint Louis University. KM studied under the renowned Welsh-American poet, bard and scholar Jon Dressel and co-produces the monthly literary and music show Poems, Prose and Pints. She has performed in shows and events nationally and internationally and her poetry and writings appear in various publications and anthologies. KM is the author of two ebooks, I Become One and Heirs of November. Check out her new travel blog/publication Travel Artists Hub.

Uprooted was originally published in TravelArtistsHub: Artists Who Travel on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.