Tired of Wandering

Tired of Wandering

(Some of the redeemed had wandered into the desert, into the wasteland. They couldn’t find their way to a city or town.” Psalm 107:4)

I’ve walked this pathway so well it
opens to me like the gates to a castle I’ve never visited.
Glassy in the fog,
messy while I slog through the day like mud.
So afraid of wasting my time,
so afraid of running out of time,
I still walk my appointed route without deviation.
I have no excess, no minutes to spare.
I have no travel, no destination. I walk the
circle
hoping someone new will stop me,
will hold me with their attention,
will have every intention of helping me fly
between vague intentions and dreams
of people I thought would walk the road
with me
like we did ages ago. Do you remember
the way the snow fell in late November on
the Pennsylvania slopes? We ate hamburgers
and imagined reserved seating for all of our future friends.
I never imagined I would lose the seat
at your table soon.
But the song rolled in like a wagon wheel
crossing the jagged field where the hay bales stood.

Seems the music makes the hours pass more quickly
these days. I just miss the friends who listened to
it with me so many miles ago. So little time left
to
recreate days in the park, nights on the stage,
listening to crickets in the dark, hiding our age.
Would you, by happenstance, be going my way?
Let’s try singing again and guess at the lyrics for
the verses we’ve forgotten.
I’m tired of wandering, tired of missing the unencrypted
poetry we once shared. Read me yours, I’ll read you mine,
and we’ll sit on Persian carpets frayed from the sun.