BY SHIRL A. STEWARD
He says heís conflicted,
doesnít know which way
to turn, just hoping on hope
his parents will pass on
so his long sought 'prize',
so dutifully earned,
gleams as more than a dream.
Itís said about town,
this man has claimed to all
he canít be pinned down,
yet, in grand contradiction,
keeps insisting, most vehemently,
heíd settle down in a flash
with the right woman around.
And, yes, you heard the rumors right.
Some days, he'd arise to a new song and
very proudly would proclaim
I am this amazing Joan of Arc,
a God-sent miracle,
an angel in white
who this knight among men
has chosen to crown as his queen.
But, alas, within hours it seems
insults and denials abound as
I turn into the dust in the road
he has left behind on his flee
to escape the grip
of that horrible fate,
"No," I would hear him say,
"not me, I can not let
anything or anyone
be more permanent,
than is the dew on the grass.
As part of my life,
these things too soon take hold
to rob me of my precious freedom . . .
I must roam, exploring all the world
totally unfettered . . . totally unbound
with no limits to set me down."
Ah, . . . shame on all those
who would dare desire,
who would dare to share
his precious few moments in the sun,
even though, these moments be
solitary and forever on the run . . .
But a true friend? . . . sadly,
there is . . . was never any time.
A sea of faces, so many
passers by, acquaintances maybe,
not even one called friend
did he claim or view as his own.
I tried but, alas,
after four long years,
I had to admit the wall
was just too high.
So, my dear sir, I've musingly
dub you Mr. Wander-lust
for, to me, you are so silly,
as is this crazy game you play
in which you push away
any who dare come too close
to hearing the beat of your heart,
to render expressions of love,
all far too personal,
your heart too tender.
So many times, I saw you flee
with just a hint
that someone did simply care.
Don't you know, the chains you see
are mere illusions . . .
boundaries self imposed?
No one has ever bound you or dictated
the way you should or shouldn't be.
Why do you put the fear of closeness
and 'your' emotions in control?
And me? . . .
I have my own yearn for freedom.
Why would I betray my own desires
just to be the muse . . .
an unwanted butterfly
who lights upon your strings?
Yes, indeed silly you are . . .
if any more amusing,
I would surely cry.
And, there be this dilemma,
you say rests within your heart
your loneliness and the sadness . . .
an requited passion to be loved,
a war waged by conflicting desires,
in the now, forever ripping you apart,
humm . . . how can I turn my back
and say farewell
as this need, in me, calls
to be the helper, nurse, counselor . . .
the redeemer . . .
a role I swore to never again play
and certainly, not with one I loved?
Yes, logic does win, so I shrunk away
and said, I will help but as your therapist,
the 'us' in 'we' exists no longer.
In retrospect, what then is this I see
this thing that is fleeting and elusive . . .
forever glaring back at me?
Is it a reflected, mirror image?
Have I too shut the door as much as he?
I fear that at times, yes I have
except the door I close is not
to others for I thrive in the closeness
that has earned me so many long time friends.
Instead, the door I close is to myself.
I run away, sometimes wandering
aimlessly, from what I love most
the art that gives me life
the very thing that would envelop
me, my name, in wealth and fame.
My greatest fear
the destruction of creative spirit
which might accompany such success.
So, I pose a question to my reader now . . .
Do you ever find yourself
the aimless wanderer?
Are you truly the adventurer
or is there some dire fated plight
from which you choose to flee?
Are you afraid that some other
will get too close and rob you
of an identity
you have never come
to fully embrace even with
or is your fear of loss is so great,
you'd rather live without?
Could it be that we fear the reality
birthed of such great love
is undeserved . . . unearned?
Why else could we
as a state unreal,
as something crafted by deception?
Aha. . . I see now!
Don't you agree that it all boils down
to THE one and only issue:
Am I worthy of being loved?
To all I send a special wish . . .
may someday we shed this need
to wander aimlessly
and finally, truly live our dreams.
Our life symphony
was composed by one alone,
for me, by me and only me.
for you, by you and only you.
Our time is now, harken to the call,
to thine own self be true.
By Shirl A. Steward,
written Oct 16, 2004
(expanded 2007 for
well earned 'closing remarks')
S., my 'Mr. Wander-lust' . . .
Postscript: (December 29, 2009)
Comment also posted on my blog
Many love this poem because it depicts a situation that exists in so
many romantic relationships . . . or should I say almost relationships.
A healthy relationship does not exist if one or both of the parties
is constantly in flight, either emotionally or physically.
And, I believe that most relationships do have some element of this
phenomenon going on, even some friendships. Still, I don't
wish to break any illusions here.
this case in point, there was a medical condition that presented
itself quite early on. When I first met Mr. Wander-Lust,
I realized he suffered from multiple-personality as a complication
of bipolar syndrome so, perhaps, he had a good excuse for being the
way he was. I adjusted my perceptions with him accordingly.
This POEM helped me do exactly that! It also gave me great
insight. For that reason, it was a wonderful blessing.
record . . . on his good days, in his 'I want to live as part
of the world' self, he was the kindest, gentlest man I could ever
imagine knowing. On those
days, it was indeed a joy to know him. If I had walked away
frightened by 'the' condition, I would have missed all of it.
And, I COULD
do this because I completely UNDERSTOOD.
right from the beginning who he was and the way he
was. In fact, I still love and remember him
that issue addressed . . .
what excuse do the rest of us have?
completely honest with those for whom you care deeply no matter
what you fear as consequence. Concealing or
running away from the truth only turns that 'truth' into
something that it's not . . . a very ugly lie. More importantly, be honest with
yourself . . . about how you really feel.
deep on soul searching with this. Of what are you
really afraid? The truth may surprise you! As ACIM tells
us, we are never angry or fearful for the reason we
think! If you are unclear what to do, pray for
renewed sight and understanding . . . ask that the true
source of your fears be revealed. Then face those
fears. If you do not, the happiness and freedom
waiting for you just beyond the fear shall forever
remain a mystery.
understanding that will carry you though and past the
fear. If, that is, you truly want to overcome the
things keeping you from experiencing the awe and beauty
of true love! Love that hurts is NOT real because
it is an illusion created by the ego. Do
not let the fear control you. Real love? . . .
loving others deeply and passionately is merely an
extension of being in love with all of creation itself.
For, with great
understanding comes great compassion and great love. In none of these wonderful
states of being will you ever find a
reason to fear or be less than the beautiful
incredible person you
were meant to be.
Many blessings to all!