Wanderer. This poem is about being lost and not knowing whether to “settle” somewhere or just keep traveling.

The road keeps calling to me. “Where will we go?”, I ask. Mischievously it replies, “Let’s see shall we?”.

In the past, I haven’t really known where I was supposed to be and the times I did know for sure, when I got there, I became aware that not only did the place not bring me joy, it brought me misery.

They say the heart knows which path to take, but mine likes to roam! Is it taking me down a scenic path to it’s desired destination I wonder? Or is it lost? Or is it mischievous like the road? Or maybe it’s longing for something and doesn’t know what for?

I thought I was alone in this misery, but then I met a beautiful and sophisticated woman who said to me “I don’t want to put any effort into being here, but I also don’t know where I’m supposed to go”.

How long has she been contemplating this thought I wondered and then asked, to which she replied “Eighteen years”. I immediately felt sadness and fear take a hold of me.

Eighteen years.

It’s better to keep wandering then I think. Because staying in one place is like water when it’s stagnant. But flowing like the river is like breathing air into life.

So I asked again “Where should I go?” or more like pleaded “Please tell me where to go”.

And then I heard my heart say “There are no mistakes. So go, just GO”.

Diana Paul

Comments