A poem: No Rest for the Weary
No Rest for the Weary
With every step, a new breeze, a new sense of belonging
If ever there were a place more exhilarating for a weary soul.
With each step, I am revived. That emotion once dead, in me, is Resurrected
At the very sight of the muddy Mississippi – knowing where she leads.
The thought approaches, my limits are without
The thought remains – the river – she shall take me to the gulf –
In this city.
Limits, possibilities, travels!
No longer am I bound!
All welcomed, all pleasant.
The sights, the aromas, the people –
Perhaps this has been my missing piece,
Perhaps this experience is what I needed to rest.
It was a journey; this journey that refreshed me.
Straight away, the smell of gumbo z’herbes,
Canal, Iberville, Bienville, St. Anne, and St. Peter
Guided, by the souls of the city, I wander on –
Greeted in Treme by those who live and rest coevally.
St. Jude, Dutch, Kermit, and Marie,
You, legacies! Your stories tell themselves –
How strong; how faithful; how alive!
But, truly, it was not rest
To the left with every block –
And so, you have made me.