Through pain and suffering,
we continue.
Others follow momentarily,
a hundred miles behind.
With awkwardness and disdain,
they walk over them.
But far from an English lair,
still with fiery thoughts alight.
They will not lay me
down to sleep.
Like a breath,
we are in the right place.
And there is an end to it.
Everything shakes with
our love and laughter.
As the blackbirds
caw their fierce surprise.
Reading the words
and weeping.
A Wandering Poet 