A deep calm envelops me. Your voice justifies the thoughts and memories which I am allowing myself to replay in the theatre of my mind. I think of a ...ragment of our poem: "We take the golden road to Samarkand". The golden road. My journey. You: my guide. I mount the platform on which the cross stands. The wooden surface is rough on my naked feet. Your will demands me to touch the smooth timber in front of me with both hands, and slide them along the surface, feeling the texture of the surface. The husband and daughter left and my son and I got our suits on and headed to the pool. I got all laid out on the pool deck to get some sun. My son had gone for a swim. There were not alot of people at the pool, I think a couple of guys and maybe five women. After about thirty minutes my son came up in a hurry grab his towel and took off to towards the room. I waited about ten minutes for his return then decided I should go check on him. I slowly opened the door to the room thinking my son may. More

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