Weary Traveller Poem by Joanne Teague
Weary Traveller
The path suddenly narrows,
as it is revealed,
so clearly
that unconditional love
is the road
to my personal hell.
Like a fool,
I skipped it merrily,
unaware that my feet
had begun to bleed
&
oblivious to the peril,
I kept on,
ignorantly steadfast.
I can't tell
the difference
between road rage
and heartbreak
anymore.
How
could such a
straight path
get me
so lost?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 6:08:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
