The Traveler

*photo credit: Sally Mann

A Poem

Sometimes I miss myself.

Where am I?

Not out there.

All those places of far-flung wildness

where I went searching.

Digging around for something

I had no words for.

No.

Right here.

All here.

Except for that part of me,

that persistent and necessary part of me,

that’s still in all those places

I went looking.

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About the author

maraya karena

I am an observer of consciousness. Falling asleep and waking up again from within the cycles of my own rhytym. What is happening? What is trying to happen? No one knows what is going on. I love you.