It is suddenly 2012 and you are standing
at the edge of the North Sea,
in another new place in another new land,
passing through slowly, reticent to leave.
You always are. Home, it seems is a place
you love when you are there,
but when you travel, you are rarely eager to return,
a wanderlust passed down from your father’s genes
and his father before him,
an emotion triggered by the least of things,
the rustle of leaves, an almost familiar song,
almost anything makes you restless.
In this time of quarantine, it is like a disease,
the devil’s voice in your ear, the temptation of Christ
wasted on a lesser mortal,
The time will come again. You know this.
Your mind, for now at least, is stronger than your emotions,
a strength you have had to cultivate for your own good,
It is hard work fighting against your nature,
while keeping the best of that nature intact,
if for no other reason than to prove you still exist.
About this poem
One of my friends often categorizes my poems as “accessible” and “less accessible”. This one has so many things going on from so many different eras in my life, it’s likely way over in the “less” category.
The picture was taken in 2012, which is why the date. On the edge of the North Sea in the Netherlands. I went there for a week’s work and got fired the second. It was horrible, but I took advantage of it. I had a hotel room and expenses for the week, and a plane ticket back, and spent the rest of the week wandering the Netherlands, in one of the freest weeks of my life, accountable to no one but my own whims.
I lead from my heart and at times too much so. So the trick was to do better using my mind, while still keeping my heart front and center. Not an easy thing.
All triggered by a odd almost bluesy piece of music played at my favorite diner this morning.
The mind is a strange thing. What comes, comes.