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Wanderlust Days

Updated on April 27, 2015
The Tetons and Snake River by Ansel Adams, 1942
The Tetons and Snake River by Ansel Adams, 1942

I am rusting beneath your sky

Scream it out

Sit and tell

Pound at me like shadows

Hit the girl still


Fight it

This sharp need to run

To go where nothing is known

No face familiar

No place to call home.


Just breathe

Count the seconds

Once in once out,

Find the bag in the corner

Always packed,

Always ready,

Always for tomorrow.


The Beat

What is this beat, this silence, these pacing halls and empty nights? These broken dreams and hollow friends lost in the waves of everyday and never night. Shout in fields, wait in cars and sit at these same metal desks waiting for what? For life, for love? For escape never to come and never to leave. If I stay will I die? If I leave I surely will but isn’t that the point…to live until there is nothing left, no skin or bones no laughter or light.

A city sleeps for me a thousand miles away and yet still somehow mine. Could there be a day there, a day so different from my today, my empty loss at nothing, my patent disregard of family and friends.

I sit alone, drenched in black coffee and angst while the beautiful world flies by. Its golden axis spinning on without my input, without my say. My ego bruised from reality of minority. Death will change nothing, but can life? Can one person make any sort of mark on this rotating orb of blue and green or is it futile, a madman’s joke most are smart enough to pretend not to see. But I can’t pretend. I ache with the knowledge, with the lack of it. I want perspective, scope, some kind of purpose beyond a spewing pulpit and blank promises of heaven and earth. I want today in all its glory and tomorrow in all its pain. To live fully and without reserve, like the child jumping off a rock into water, no thought but pure joy. So simple so right, so undoable.

Even in the speed of words my thoughts catch up and with them the consequences of each syllable, each betraying letter of the alphabet and personality. Am I really so selfish, so unkind as to leave without a goodbye. Or is it pure ego that expects I will be missed?

If there is any lesson to life I have learned it is that everything fades, everything dies and everything can be replaced. How many times have I reached for a memory and found it broken, blurry and tainted with time. Like books on a shelf, spines faded with sun I am sitting useless, collecting dust. The motes heavy on my soul and my mind the only cure the bag in the closet itching to be set free into the great unknown that is this world. So much to see, to taste, to hear and so little time so little space left in this life that could end as suddenly as it began. Do they not see? I want to scream at their complacency and they doubtless want to scream at my lack of it.

So I stay, work, eat, sleep and pace. 3am finds me drooling into a pilling pillow with the rest of the town. Not awake staring at the full moon over the Aegean or the swirling colors of Rio's streets. Just dead to the world from hours of cyclical work, going nowhere and proving nothing. I feel the pressure growing, the valves ready to burst with restlessness and wanderlust. I know it won’t help, a plane, a boat, a train, a car. No matter the mode the broken pieces are within not without. I could be in Tokyo and still feel this dripping beat of need in my gut. Siam, Bhutan, Kenya or Chile…still the same.

Work quiets it, for a time I am distracted by the project at hand, the numbers, the steps, the faint line of water under my squeegees blade. Then weary I sleep, smile blearily at the setting sun and think nothing of somewhere and someday until the morning when it all begins again.

© 2013 brownella

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    • sweethearts2 profile image

      sweethearts2 4 years ago from Northwest Indiana

      Ah, tomorrow

      but, the comfort of today.

      My escape is always short lived, thankfully

      Enjoyed and voted up

    • M Zees profile image

      Muhammad Zeeshan 4 years ago from Karachi, Pakistan

      the last three lines ... excellent job !

    • brownella profile image
      Author

      brownella 4 years ago from New England

      Thanks. I love reading other people's poetry hubs but have been a little nervous about posting my own. I'm glad I did.

    • wayne barrett profile image

      Wayne Barrett 4 years ago from Clearwater Florida

      Very nice. You captured that feeling that overwhelms us all from time to time.

    • Shyron E Shenko profile image

      Shyron E Shenko 2 years ago from Texas

      Beautiful brownella, I love poetry, and this is wonderful.

      Keep up the good work.

      Voted up, UABI and sharing.

    • brownella profile image
      Author

      brownella 2 years ago from New England

      Hi Shyron. I'm so glad you enjoyed it, thanks for reading :-)

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