It was at a young age that poetry arrived in search of me. I am forever grateful to have been exposed to it at school, and to have that thirst to seek for it. I once read that Charles Darwin said he wishes he would have listened to more music and read more poetry in his life. For that reason, added to my immense enjoyment of both, I try to do both as often as possible.
In lieu of timely posts (which I am working, bit by bit, to catch up to in real time) I’ve decided to start publicly sharing some of my poetry here. I will try to post more every Sunday for what I call Sonnet Sunday – an alliterative reminder for me to keep poetry a constant presence, and make it part of my weekly routine.
I wrote this poem based on a prompt “The Open Road” given in a digital poetry group I subscribe to, hosted by Calahan Skogman. The theme perfectly sums up my feelings while out traveling, particularly now while roaming the country roads out here in Soderala, Sweden. The kind and tender souls who submit poetry are so pure and gentle, and I’ve learned a lot about them and myself. In consistently writing more poetry which, while I do not feel I am a master like John Keats, Billy Collins, ee cummings, Pablo Neruda, Rainer Maria Rilke or Robert Frost, I hope to contribute to the literary conversation at least in my own small way.
Dusty Roads
I was born with dust in my soul.
Not the mud stuck between tractor tires,
baked rust-red in the clay. No,
I’m the kind
you find
billowing in the summer sun,
up and out in clouds from horse hooves
as they head west,
following
unseen roads.
Their roads,
you see—
The only roads–
The lonely roads–
The unmarked
unpaved
homely roads–
Those are
the ones
for me.
Those are the ones that matter,
Those with which the eye lie incomplete
(you don’t find it with the iris,
you find it
with the feet).
Trekking west, ever west,
trailing the smoke of the setting sun.
But, if you’re brave enough,
look
up–
You might glimpse it, too: The
gold-sieved flecks on its celestial map etching a horizon,
the still-veiled stars
lending their
velvet view.
There it waits with open arms,
an embrace as wide as the sky,
where you don’t find it—
it finds
you.