By Sophomore Guest Poet Remy Haring
I drift through this unfamiliar land
Gripping tightly a picture of those of a bygone era
Draped in a cloak and veil
The blowing sand flays my skin like razor blades
And I can’t see my hand if I put it out in front of me
I am not from here
I am not welcome here
The folk here view me as a vagabond
They knew each other since they were naught but children
And they are ruthless to outsiders
Backstabbing and treachery are a daily act
When I wander into town I am met with glares or apathy
I find it best to keep my mouth shut around them
In order to survive I must look over my shoulder
And keep moving
I write this as I make camp for the night in the dunes
It’s getting late
I should get in my sleeping bag
Lulled by the lullaby of the storm
When I was a new student I felt this way about some school that I went to, you might of heard of it- I’m not sure. I went there from 6th-12th grade, and didn’t make friends until 3 years in. Sometimes when you try to be yourself- you are viewed as a vagabond- for no reason whatsoever. I couldn’t seem to find one when I was younger. Keep moving through the dunes, and you’ll end up where you need to be. I did. Nice poem Remi! #roadrunning
-BallerHaller24
Been there.. just keep moving and let Nature do the healing! Better time and opportunities will come.. hopefully soon.
Have a great Monday and celebrate life always!