The Detached and Other Poems
The Detached
Still I praise those who are detached
from any land, who, since birth,
have been determined to travel far away in search
of home. They get their bearings
by stars, their roots growing at the end
of the imagined sky.
For them, life is a tortuous journey
and every stop a new departure. They
know they will disappear on the road,
but as long as they are living
they must travel with death
to the destination they have envisioned,
though they have no idea
whose maps their footprints might update.
and every stop a new departure. They
know they will disappear on the road,
but as long as they are living
they must travel with death
to the destination they have envisioned,
though they have no idea
whose maps their footprints might update.
