(On the subject of travel)
On any journey worth its salt
take an invisible knapsack
fill it with the weight of places,
peoples and other nouns
This burden tugs your progress
packed in different pockets
folded emotions, pristine like maps
faces moulded like sculptures
and essences are bottled fast
West to east become east to west
as it surely will
and irksome baggage becomes chafed and worn
and tears beneath the rent of homesickness
spilling the journey stones
to leave a boy scout’s coded secret trail
to mark your pathway home
© Graham Sherwood 09/2013
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