Wanderer, I Know You.
{Photo credit: Paula McHenry Barkmeier via Toby Israel}
Dear Wanderer,
I know.
I know the spell that movement casts as it twines with an incantation of foreign names.
I know the rhythm your footsteps play as you run through your dreams at night — always away. But you never arrive, do you?
I know how the taste of an uncharted trail can set your imagination’s tongue on fire, and I know why the smell of wood smoke sets your mind’s nostrils to twitching.
I know the color of yearning and the violet hue of adventure.
I know the soft-soft silk touch of the cords that pull you in every direction at once. I have felt the kiss of a thousand sunsets on my cheek.
I know how you used to look at maps like others read magazines — hidden under the covers, heart racing. A drop of possibility is more potent than any drug, isn’t it?
I know the musty, misty scent of the unknown.
I know, because I am a wanderer, too.
You and I, we were born so very long ago, and we wander now in search of a place we have never been.
Our search is so ancient it has no beginning, so deep it has no bottom, so long it has no end.
You and I, we run the same rhythm and feast on the same wood smoke.
When our minds are at rest, our souls meet in deserts and play in jungles, frolic in caves and discover sunken cities. And one day, we might wander together.
Dear Wanderer, if there is movement in your teeth and yearning in your collarbones, I know what you mean and these words are for you.
I know your shadow is purple at the full moon, and I know you taste the heat of the open road in your dreams.
Follow, please, the heaving drumbeat refrain of searches — centuries of seeking — that has carried you here.
There is no other secret. The purpose of our wandering knows its own mind, and I — I know only to follow it.
Dear Wanderer, I know you, and you know me. Ours are the stories never written but always told, flowing from one generation to the next.
Soft-soft silk and sunset lips whisper promises against our skin, and we heed them. For what else could we do?
We are wanderers, and we dance to a wanderer’s tune.
*****
Toby Israel is an incorrigible vagabond. She travels in search of dragons, mermaids, adventures and searches… and cross-cultural understanding. Avid dancer, yogi, cook and lover of words, she is inspired by movement and poetry, good food and new things. She studied Anthropology at Middlebury College and now seeks to squeeze by as a freelance writer. She writes a column for Elephant Journal, and a travel blog, Next Stop World. You can also follow her journey on Twitter and Facebook.
{Wanderers Society}
Comments
Latest posts by Rebelle Society (see all)
- Cemetery of Tears. - December 23, 2024
- My Identity Journey: What’s in a Name? - December 23, 2024
- Cyprus: A Magic Place That Feels Like Home. - December 23, 2024