Like a harbour docked with ships ,
That Leave and arrive in the guidance of a light house, is my heart.
A shelter to the arriving and departing love.
Wrecked,Wretched and awful.
That once rented a gruesome space
to a soujourner.
A tenent unknown and untrustworthy.
Every so often as we move along the trail
We meet those who walk along beside us
Some for just a few steps before a direction change
Others a step and two - you start looking for a bus
So rare when out of nowhere a sojourner steps in
At least that's what it seems to be ...then after a time
You realize you really don't know who joined who
So rare is the honor given and recieved that sublime
Is the word that seems fitting due to.. its rarity of use ...
... height and breadth of its inclusionary valuation
Finding the courage to walk the highwire of conversation
Without a net and that is not the normal inclination
A breath of fresh air through a dusty dead air space
Conversation so often drags along creating a rut
But time harmonizing along the trail a foot or endless mile
Has a key to locked doors and inspired need to open windows
That I as I'm sure ,like so many others, have.....
at some sad impulse driven moment ...nailed shut !!
As fresh as the cresting sun.
As renewed as a parched root system,
sipping from newly fallen rain.
As strong as the piercing scent
As inspiring as a color never before seen.
As beautiful as an uninterrupted
view of the coming horizon.
Tracing my tracks against the
dew soaked grass.
The stride seemingly effortless,
but that imposition of thought
betrays the plight.
A vehicle of processes unseen.
A coalescing of doubt, fatigue,
and soul shrieking fear.
The listless sojourner bides his
time, by hearing the winds
flow through the branches of
trees sheltering his tumultuous,
The mirage of freedom begs for him.
The anticipation of impact beckons him.
The theory of altruism entices him.
The actual silence imparts peace on him.
As brave as a child facing life with
no hand to hold.
As defined as the microscopic view
of the macroscopic systems moving
As invigorating as a bath in a cool
Renewed, reborn, raised.
The tearing pain of exhaustion earns
The screaming agony of muscles
garners only more ambition.
The eyes of a weary sojourner
shows sincere empathy,
know your place,
and by grace,
they will see it upon your now
Not sure where you are
but I am positive I know
who you are with
Grandpa that is
deep at sea
in the far far east
and like when you were here
I've ridden many waves
some with expert ease
and some so towering
I almost crashed myself
upon the rocks
I am really writing
there was one thing
you once said
that now has hit the mark
sometimes there's no hurry
just float and see
life through many lenses
at all different angles
before you launch
plain word and verse
though over time
profound and most treasured
Your Loving Grandson and Fellow Sojourner
Whit Howland © 2019
Inspired by the Japanese painter Hokusai
The meadow glows with a soft ambivalence
The air is humming with the chattering of birds
They try to do their best to impress with nests of decadence
But eyes aware see through the facade
My heart dreamt of days when wounds will be shared
In circles of trust and love
To heal that which congeals, and blocks the flow of love
I spent some time to tread the earth as a sojourner,
I set out alone
Though I never felt lonesome
The world spoke to me,
The earth kept me company
Her symphony carries through the universe
I felt loved and warm
I felt found
Though some may have described me as lost.
I was so profoundly found
In the company of the earth.
At night I would travel to the silver moon
And dance upon her
I would see the world below me
Blue and green and beautiful
My heart felt like a treasure beating in my chest in that moment
There was so much to be grateful for,
And there always has been.
Yes, I get angry
when people are full of stuff
that they want to unload
yet, this doesn't stop me
from being me -
from being peaceful.
i have decided
to chose love
to chose forgiveness
when i see signs
and finger pointing.
upon thus deciding
i find myself
remembering that i chose love
remembering that i chose forgiveness
as soon as i sense illusions spilled.
I chose self love first
i chose self forgiveness first
since i am not a storehouse
where grace is filled
i have been a sojourner too.
I thus plead for grace
to fill my bucket with
love and forgiveness at night
so that I can start delivering them
upon waking in the morning.
my time is spent thus
delivering these graces
from morning till night
on the streets, on the phone
to my thoughts and to all.
I love and i forgive
it is what i am created for
so to anger i gently nod
and say that i love you
i thank you for your concerns.
for through you, my anger
i was able to express
able to feel alive
able to become aware
now it is time for you to rest.
anger, my beloved,
i must let you rest now
for I used you far too long
as excuse not to love
as excuse not to forgive.
Let me transform you
while you rest
into the embodiment
of love and forgiveness
where you lose yourself
to explore your lighter side.
Ruth was a sojourner
A Sojourner in Truth
In the Amazon Basin
Threatened rainforest and youth
Killed by John Wilkes Booth
I read Things Not Seen
Hints and guesses, not proof
— The End —