The Banished

From the painted doorsteps
Of cobblestones and concrete
To the abandoned park bench
Of hardwood and metal rust
Still revealing the sad graffitis
Of those who loved now dead
Were the yards of wilderness
I traversed while I was gone.

I wandered with unuttered silence
As stubborn as my unyielding feet
Tracing the old ballads of the wind,
Playing on the steps of river rocks
By the pond of mosses and sods,
Slow dancing with the limber leaves
Among the stout weeds in the fields
Of swaying blades and tiny thorns.

I asked the purple doves then the whites
Surrounding me to wait for the grey dusk,
I asked the children who flew Chinese kites
And those who let go the jarred dragonflies,
I asked the junipers, the tall pines, the trees
Whose bitsy flowers dropped like purple rain,
And they all murmured and uttered the same,
The same unspoken silence my lips unleashed.

Well, I for one am glad you're back from the Land of the Banished. Nice poem.

Thanks, paradoxical. The brief banishment humbled me and helped me understand what I really want in life. I want to be a writer; thus, I should and must write. So from now on, I'll leave the debating to those who have no intention of improving their writing but reasoning--from senseless to nonsense to strange to bizarre.