Returning to the Wandering Road

Hello, world!

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Doing the science! Climbing trees, trying to find the lemurs.

I have just returned from five months in the wild. Well, five months in Madagascar. It was the furthest I’ve ever been removed from the life I know. Actually off-grid for big chunks, though partly self-imposed. It’s been an experience, a test, and one of my biggest adventures. Anything that wasn’t an amazing experience at the time became a hilarious story once it was over. Many absurd stories.

Also, it was with a bunch of absolute nutters, which is always a huge bonus.

By coincidence, I just found a poem I had written a year ago (53 weeks, to be exact), when I had similarly returned from an adventure and was looking to the future and bigger things to come. I don’t really remember writing it, but it’s certainly a poem that still resonates with my feelings a year on. I’ll share the poems I wrote out in Madagascar, but for now this is one that’s just as relevant.

Every line or couplet holds a significance that captures a certain interpretation of the poem, and using one for a title would possibly divert away from other layers, so I’ll just be using the first line for now.

It’s a Roman road,
Going straight and narrow.
Feels like broken bones,
Flying like an arrow.
If roads lead to Rome,
But it feels like bad aim,
It’s not going home,
Only going insane.

I’ve an altered gait,
Means I’m prone to wander,
Altering the straight,
Heading straight o’er yonder.
Home is where I’ll end,
Though I’ll journey prior,
Making arrows bend,
True enough when fired.

Roads for queens and kings,
Straight and with intention.
Puppets on their strings,
Bound to never question.
Curious as cats,
Driven on by query,
I will hang my hat,
When resolved and weary.

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