Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Song of the Open Road

AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever
I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)

- Walt Whitman

This poem speaks to my soul. Inherent freedom. The weight that is lifted when I step outside. Everything. This came from a little poem book I bought to read for Bella when I was pregnant with her. And the photo I snapped on the open road in Wyoming way before I knew what it was like to be a mother or a wife. It still calls me.