The Wanderer

A poem about religious freedom…

The wandering soul has left behind the place she once called home
She has discarded the fabricated sense of refuge she once clung to
Castoff her belonging realising belatedly, they were never her own
She walks along down the road of life
Lessons learnt stored clandestinely in her bag
She doesn’t look back
That part of her life is finished
It took with it so much, so soon
She accepts that she was never safe there
Safety was her own duty
She had never belonged
She fit herself into a mould which never fit right
Home she realises is wherever she goes
She wanders down the winding path of life
She stops at odd little towns along the way
To glance in through the windows of the magnificent stores she finds there
She can walk into any of them, if she pleases
Or she can walk on by and on
The blue of sky is more glorious
The sun more warm on her skin
She can rest her head when the day is done
Recreating her freedom day by day
There may be storms, these she will challenge on her own
She can appreciate the benevolence of the odd passer-by
She can show gratitude to the splendour of humanity more easily
Knowing that she is free to do so, that she always was
She is free, free is the wandering soul
From the chains that once bound and ensnared her,
She is Thankful for liberty,
Thankful for life.
© R Joseph

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