Songs for the Open Road

Walt Whitman, Songs for 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,

Strong and content, I travel the open road....

From this hour, freedom!

From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,

Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute,

Listening to others, and considering well what they say,

Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating....

The Soul travels;

The body does not travel as much as the soul;

The body has just as great a work as the soul and parts way at last for the journeys of 

the soul..."

This is a few lines out of one of the best poems I have ever read. The complete poem is very long but well worth the read. I find it inspiring. I have dreams of traveling for my work, to go to new places and see new things. This poem starts out so simply and beautifully, "afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road" and right now, in my life, that is where I am. I am just beginning my journey on this "Long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose". 

And "From this hour, freedom!...Going where I list...Listening to others, and considering well what they say..." I will go, I will set out, but I will listen to others. There is so much I still do not know, There is so much still for me to learn, about myself, about the world. This is a great poem to read and take to heart, to follow and heed, there is a great deal of wisdom in these words. 

The process, and the steps we take in life are often the same. We each have our own "Open Road" that we travel. The sights we see along the way, the people we meet, and the person we become during our journey, are unique to each of us as individuals. We all have our goals, our dreams, and we all search for somebody to share our journey with,
"...I give you my hand!
I give you my love, more precious than money,
I give you myself, before preaching or law;
Will you give me youreslf? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?"

Life is our open road, our journey begins often the way it does in this poem. And our journey continues, much the way it does in this poem. What we do along the way, and the footprints we leave for others to follow, and the condition we leave our path when we're done, is entirely up to us.

I Died for Beauty

I died for beauty--but was scarce

Adjusted in the Tomb

When the One who died for Truth was lain

In an adjoining room--

He questioned softly "Why I failed"?

"For beauty", I replied--

"An I-- For Truth-- Themself are One--

We Brethren, are", He said--

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night--

We talked between the Rooms--

Until the Moss had reached our lips--

And covered up-- our names--

~Emily Dickinson~ 

I think that this poem is very dark and beautiful, from the theme and language to the mood. I find it fascinating how something as sad, sometimes, as a gravestone can be turned into something beautiful. "He questioned softly 'why I failed'?" "'For beauty', I replied--" "'An I-- For Truth'..." They are two young people in their graves, talking to one another about how they died. The girl was barely used to her tomb when, presumably a soldier of some sort "One who died for Truth", was lain to rest beside her. It is sad and beautiful at the same time.

I stumbled across this poem and fell in love with its simplicity but complexity at the same time. Some poems that say so much more than what is written, the best ones do. And they leave you thinking, mulling over what you read, again and again. Poems like this one stick with me. 

"I Hung On Like Death"

 

~My Papa's Waltz~

Theodore Roethke

The whiskey on your breath 

Could make a small boy dizzy;

But I hung on like death:

Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans

Slid from the kitchen shelf;

My mother's countenance

Could not unfrown itself.

                                                                       The hand that held my wrist 

                                                                       Was battered on one knuckle;

                                                                     At every step you missed 

                                                                      My right ear scraped a buckle.

                                                                    You beat time on my head

                                                                       With a palm caked hard by dirt,

                                                                     Then waltzed me off to bed

                                                                       Still clinging to your shirt.

  

It has been a little while since I read this poem, but it has stuck with me. The more I read it and think about it, the more I can relate it to life. 

Life whirls us around like the little boy, it is all we can do sometimes to hold on. I know it is a bit of a stretch, but think about it. The young age of 19-20's is a transition age for most young adults. Just getting out on our own, going to school and looking for a career to pursue, it almost seems as though Life is an aggressive drunk, tossing us around to and fro, dancing with us like limp puppets. 

"My mother's countenance could not unfrown itself" I picture our mother's watching as we go through this phase in our lives as we learn and find the strength to carry on. There is little to nothing she can do for us, she cannot take the burden from our shoulders. Life will beat us down at every turn, we must do what we can to hold on.

Life is a crazy dance and we are the unwilling partner who must keep step or fall down.