The Wanderer Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

The Wanderer

Rating: 5.0


Other people’s places
Other people’s rooms
Other people’s spaces
Swept with well made brooms

Fill me with confusion
Overwhelm my bones
With the strong illusion
I don’t have a home

Other people’s treasures
Other people’s jewels
Other people’s measures
Other people’s pools

Fill my mind with clutter
Fill my mind with awe
Make my tongue to stutter
Make my breath withdraw

Other people’s striving
Other people’s walk
Other people’s pining
Other people’s talk

Fill me with foreboding
Fill me with a dread
Coax me to unloading
My small crust of bread

Other people’s journeys
Other people’s roads
Other people’s gurneys
Other people’s loads

Fill me with a longing
Fill my fading veins
Of a hope where singing
Is the only aim

Other people’s larders
Other people’s bets
Other people’s gardens
Other people’s pets

Cause my hand to falter
Cause my breath to pause
Giving up the psalter
Of my meager cause.

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