Though they will not stay long,
Nor, either shall I linger on.
Their bucking days are gone;

Somehow they've reconciled
To be companions and my friends
After years of push and pull between us.

Old Horses are the best,
Quiet now, and patient,
More content to stand or ride,
Which fills me with content.

ever an expat

~

i'm ever an expat,
this culture ain't mine;
a trip to my next stop,
a place in my mind.
this soil isn't home,
my soul it's on loan;
just looking for peace,
in a world upside down.

i'm a' travelin' light,
in pursuit of a song;
not seeking permission,
for my heart to belong.
my sole's intermission,
will only prolong,
finding the courage,
to write all my wrong.

surrounded by others,
with tickets defined;
you ask if my home's
at the end of the line?
no, i looked for a non-stop,
a grand destination;
my vocation mistaken,
a search has awakened.

i'm ever an expat,
in a culture not mine;
a trip to my next stop,
a place in my mind.
this soil isn't home,
my soul it's on loan;
still looking for peace,
in a world all gone wrong.

though ever a trav'ler,
and rarely at rest,
enjoying this journey,
my accepted success.
in losing i'm winning,
my end my beginning;
for my pain isn't gain,
til' i lose all the excess!

come fly with me,
in this quest to be free;
i'm prepared to let go,
of all that i've seen.
this my adventure,
a spirited venture;
perhaps solace i've sought,
appears in release!

i'm ever an expat,
in a culture not mine;
a trip to my next stop,
a place in my mind.
this soil isn't home,
my soul it's on loan;
i've finally found peace,
in the words of my song.

~

post script

I once wrote the following words to a dear friend in response to an article about childhood and belonging...

"it is said of men and women alike, one's latter years... those years when eyes betray, as often does one's strength, are years in which a sixth sense emerges, and with it a 20/20 vision; a hindsight that sees in its rearview mirror the beauty and wonder of life, of dots connected with its enigmatic smoke screen stripped away, its majestic tapestry coming into view... a blending of time and place where purpose and intention can become focused.

In physicality, I am 47 years removed from my host country, Japan, but here I am today, still feeling each point of these words, more poignantly than I'd like to admit!! In my more rational moments, I'd say I've moved on... in reality I often still feel stuck, unable to see my childhood as anything but a dream or another life... almost an outside-looking-in experience!"

Ever an expat, perhaps; peace and rest are elusive at best!

She walked out today
from the trailer park for the last time.
She cut the final thread
and walks towards a perfect, seamless life.
Beautiful and poor
a dangerous combination.

Seventeen, a lollipop
to be unwrapped and slowly eaten
by those who do not see
in violet eyes
the hidden spark of God.

In a world where colours blend and break,
A boy with a kaleidoscope mind does wake.
He holds the lens of endless change,
Where truths shift softly, never strange.

Through fractured glass, the universe bends,
Stars turn to whispers, roads twist and end.
He watches the dance of thought and light,
A spectrum of dreams that paint the night.

Each turn reveals a thousand skies,
A thousand truths, a thousand lies.
He learns to trust what he cannot see,
The silent song of eternity.

In the patterns, his soul finds peace,
For in the chaos, there’s release.
The boy with eyes that dare to roam,
Finds in the unknown, his truest home.

And as he walks through worlds untold,
His heart beats with the colours bold,
For in the kaleidoscope’s embrace,
He knows he’s never out of place.

The high society
Hive variety
Narrow
Mindlessly
Anxiety
Actively striving
To overprescribing
To first do no harm
Just alarmingly
Medicate
Future doomsdays
To preemptively
Automate
On our behalf
Now it’s teaching the class
Some in front
Some in back
And the ones in the lead
Still don’t know how to act
Just be taught to succeed
To monopolize need
With a pedigree
Meriting
Ivy League greed
And proceed to convince us  
Its capital gains
From the poisons it pumps
Through our varicose veins
And the garbage it dumps
In our wishy wash brains
All the same
In the ways it uplifts
And enriches
The rest of us
Broke in
Its system-wide glitches

begin this life in a wordy
but wordly habit, daily,
father-gifted, though different,
in form and language selected,
‘tis the one and ‘tis the same

tally, a counting combination
of all that has been done, for both
better & worse, blessing/curse,
the key: revamp review reset
this day upcoming and welcome
all the major tasks, minor miracles,
that one can effect,  select, elect!
by choice, a freedom so great it
tenderly rips joy thoroughly into
and from my cells, and my body
is enlightened, uplifted in this,
now a preposition, a conjugation, a

state of composition,

for the tasks given, the granted,
those that must be taken, those most
difficult, when knowing their choice,
entails pain, untempered, and
requires establishing a two edged
position of composure…

this is a hard and an easy
new proposition I create,
hard for I write on a tiny
phone screen, in letters so
small. it keeps me humbled,
a reminder of having
lived a span well
beyond belief,
for one took\gave body a
careless comfort,
giving little
of the differring
kind of nutrition in order
to live life, well and purposed

hard too, for my body has wept,
a steady stream of silent tears.
unceasing as I scribe,
making vision difficult, the
insight salty but clear and the
words contained within them,
flood for easy laying-down

for this AM workout of counting,
lists up and down, so many items,
of differring nature, even now
noticing for the very fitting first time,
the subtle hint within
differring,
for it possesses a doubling
of the enormity, the division
of what has been already
accumulated and what yet,
needs accomplishing, the tally
needy for resolving looking past,
for seeing with yet more tears
fast-as-you-can-forward

the tally never ends, paused only
for a quick question/happy deletion
of, and a resolute immediate, moving on:

Where do I stand,
what is my position?

keep on keeping on,
tallying has no finale,
no sunning/summing up,
for another day
will yet follow,
for you, and
your own
tallying must
goes on, on
and
not even,
nor even,
odd,
when mine,
mine no long,
and the
and yets,
no longer
commence