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Sunday, November 19, 2017

Walking on Dry Land

by Deanna Meiresonne (writer), Chicago, IL, April 20, 2010

When it comes to considering a life of traveling and writing, one voice says, "you can't keep running", while another replies, "what the hell are you waiting for?"

If you just want it bad enough, do you want it bad enough?
When can you let go, please? Where will you finally go?
Have you tagged on a reason?
Have you found a home?
You need some supplies first.
Tent, backpack,
you have to make arrangements.
Things to plan,
places to go,
people to see.
I’d suggest a map.
You know,
and I could reconnect
let the world know
you’ll be out and about
it’s time to see
what we’re made of
What are you going to do?
Bring the paints with you?
That’s a lot of thinking, on the road like that,
do you really think you can handle any more thinking?
And lonely, what if you get lonely, you get lonely
so often now.
Why? Because
I know why! Because
I get stagnant, stale,
it’s better to be out on the road, alone, drifting,
by choice
than stuck in a dark living room, with no one to call,
to see, no one who wants to, with everyone else, out,
on their own, on the road, drifting,
btu with people, with friends, and barbeques and wild,
thrown-together clothes and greasy hair that’s never been
died and nose piercings for the girls and bracelets for the guys,
and it’s a beautiful day out in sunny San Diego but
you’ve seen beautiful days around here before,
and
there is so much to offer being out, there is so much here,
but you don’t write,
and you don’t sing,
and you get fat, and stutter, and
when someone asks for you to tell your story,
all those great things, you once did, are getting farther away,
and you stop believing in your story, those
great things you once did, and you start
believing in a tomorrow, more like, because you
have
to, because faith,
believing it is all you got. If that’s any sure thing to rely on,
but you’ve got friends, sure, names littered here or
there across miles, if you drive to it they will let you in,
because you’ve never done them wrong, not completely, sure you
lost touch but you always had a good heart, in a right place,
and it’s not all about places, searching for meaning,
finding a home, it’s not about tying yourself down or
not being able to breath, it’s not
about looking for love or MYSELF or
feeling lost on an empty page, it’s about
well, waking, dreaming of this path, this life,
for so long, and you can only be PART OF
who you are and you’re dying - aching! to be
all of it, because you’re damned near certain that
if you can be it, if you can let it be all of it, if you
had the open spaces you needed to
let it all out, opened up like a giant parachute,
I look like I don’t need much when I’m squashed and rolled up and
jammed inside btu I do, I need so much, I need
open spaces to have room for me
I need me, I need to claim myself as something and be it
I need the open world and changing faces and to see how many times
a t-shirt can be colored and woven till it’s a tank top till it’s a head covering til it’s a bracelet till it’s gone, so what are you going to do about money, what
are you going to do
once you get there, when you see the mountain and you see the lake for the
hundreth time and you visit the temples and meet the people and barter
the markets and wear the hats and stamp your feet in the sunny field to the
music band, what then, when you’ve let it all out, when you’re sitll
standing still, when you’re shaking it out and you’ve
lost all connection, there will always be another place to go to, another
spot to point the compass to, what will you do, when you get there
and it’s same after same and you’re still -
you still got your mind, is it everythin you hoped, everything you wanted,
when you’re out on the road alone
you will pick up strangers, you will
tell the world
what you see
because it matters
becaues it’s there
because every.little.thing. is beautiful and worthwhile and if you can find the meaning
in an empty page on the side of another empty country road across from track you’ve choosen then maybe there is really meaning, maybe there is really magic, power, to what you say, when you fill up, when you’re overflowing, maybe it will all be pushed out and you’ll become this powerful, movable, FORCE, you won’t be standing still anymore,
you won’t be YOU anymore, if I can hold so much expectation and hope into one endeavor, it’s not visiting Cancun, it’s a lifetime of traveling, road-wasting, if I have to work to become it I will, so what are you waiting for, what the hell are you waiting for.



About the Writer

Deanna Meiresonne is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
Want to write articles too? Sign up & become a writer!

4 comments on Walking on Dry Land

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By alan handwerger on April 21, 2010 at 09:49 am

Deanna --

That moved me all over the place. Really like it.

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By Deanna Meiresonne on April 21, 2010 at 08:45 pm

Alan: Thank you so much for your comment! Little pieces of encouragement are great :)

Melody: "Life is not for the faint of heart" - love it! What a great way of putting it. It works great with your "in a heartbeat" sentence. Thank you.

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By vickyta on April 21, 2010 at 10:15 pm

lovely

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By Credo on August 07, 2013 at 10:09 pm

That was a banquet of interlectual nourishment, a concoction of mixed thought, provoking pure emotion. if you couldn't tell, I enjoyed it.

Credo

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