Poems About Travel

as you travel
you will start to see them
the ones on the road
moving
floating
searching
running
restless souls with open wounds
pain is their companion
rootlessness their bliss 

the wounded find solace
in the movement
the anonymity
an escape from bad energies
and years or decades of stagnance back home
or what’s supposed to be called home

they would like all the seemingly good things
everyone else seemingly has
good job
good friends
a good woman
or good-looking enough one
dog perhaps

but for reasons that elude them
those things don’t arrive
or if they do
they feel dull
and before long
life with or without those goods things
feels vague
flat
and the feeling of dying begins to set in
never sure of who’s to blame
the good things
or themselves 

whatever the reason
the only way to feel alive again
to be able to breathe deep
and taste freedom
is to just go
and hit the road
and they do
often
and it works
often

as they move
they search for fellow wanderers
or others find them
but the irony is
they rarely find what they’re looking for
connection with those like them
long term comradery
often futile
frequently impossible

those who appear like free-flowing drifters
only jaunt for a short time
normal folk
indulging adventure briefly
before returning home to where their roots are
where it feels right
or supposed to

and the ones whose home is the road
are wounded 
most cannot be related to
cannot be accessed deeply
only surface level at best
usually trying to extract something from you
whatever it may be
whether they or you
know it or not
their means is their end
no arc
no journey
no point

the road is where the wounded reside
and come in many types
good
bad
trustworthy
or far from it
dark
genuine
soulful
soulless
free
enslaved
fun
hilarious
unhinged
sick
fucked up
trying
broken
lost
righteous 

you might find yourself
drifting up and down the spectrum of wandering
the intent of your tracks shifting and sliding
you will know when it’s honest and real
and when it’s pained
however long your stay

either way
the road is where the wounded reside
keep a look out for them
clock the bad and dark and fade swiftly
that will be many
but let the few good ones in
and fill your soul
they’ll be like nobody you’ve ever met
you’ll feel their pain
edge
kind heart and wild spirit
and they will teach you
show you
and leave a mark on you
and someday
years later you’ll think of them
and they’ll fill you with joy
you’ll feel their impact
and be better for it 

and if you ever find yourself
at home on the road
I don’t know what to tell you
but if we ever meet
let us dine, drink, laugh
and let our souls beam
with a freedom and bliss like no other
the road is where the wounded reside
and maybe one day they’ll be home
whether in stillness or in motion