For the Vagabonds

Walking along a stone-marked trail
Spinning another wanderer’s tale
 
People keep on passing by
I’m seeing them with another eye
 
We have known hunger. We have known pain
We have known passion felt in vein
 
It matters not where we have been
But rather where we go again
 
An insect grazed my fingertip
As I set upon another trip
 
Speaking with women on the street
Dressed in black and incomplete
 
Speaking out about mental illness
Shooting me through mental stillness
 
Seeking again the pleasured thrills
Reciting the beauty as it spills
 
And paints anew this stone-marked trail
As I spin again a wanderer’s tale
 
 
My home within your beating heart
Was opened up and spread apart
 
So I could be alone, not lonely
To understand what is not only
 
Another shard that cuts anew
What was before my thoughts of you
 
Walking, listening, beginning
Unprovoked this joyful grinning
 
Bearing a smile before I bend
Bearing a smile so I can mend
 
You read about a healing spirit
Listen…can you hear it?
 
A storm is waiting in the skies
A storm is living in her eyes
 
Speaking with a quiet, young man
Of wanting to be all that we can
 
Racial slurs that soaked within
His troubles, loud, for but his skin
 
Matriarchs sending daughters to college
“Do your best and acquire knowledge”
 
And I went on the stone-marked trail
Spinning another wanderer’s tale
 
 
The winter was long, the winter was cold
I felt so young, I felt so old
 
Now the birds are here for spring
I lose myself in the songs they sing
 
She disappears when I draw near
But know me there and feel me here
 
I love you just as love itself
I love you as I love myself
 
Playful laughter in the distance
Destroying another wave of resistance
 
A neighbor yells, “Fuck this! Fuck that!
I do not like the place I’m at”
 
The sun breaks through the billowed clouds
And people arrive in buzzing crowds
 
“Sorry to break your quiet space”
I am a mirror without a face
 
I feel anew the drops of rain
I feel again what makes me sane
 
I left my home before I knew it
So once again I could pursue it
 
I keep a readied pen in hand
As I walk again an unknown land
 
Stopping along the stone-marked trail
Spinning another wanderer’s tale

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