Poem: A Weary Traveler

A Weary Traveler

A weary traveler,
Wanders aimlessly,
Looking for a place to sleep.

He sees an old man walking towards him,
He asks the old man, “Sleep, where should I sleep?”

The old man responds, “You should sleep where you can afford.”
“But I cannot afford.”
“Well, then, you shall not sleep.” The old man wanders off.

The weary traveler has tears welling up in his eyes.
He calls after the old man, “Where would Jesus sleep?”

“Jesus would sleep where he could afford.”
“But he could not afford.”
“Well then he would not sleep.”

The old man adds, “There is a grungy, dirty, flea infested shelter for people like you,
It is down the way.”

But the traveler was not homeless,
He was traveling.

The traveler was not dirty,
He was quite clean.

So he continued to wander, in a far off place,
A place with no humanity,
A place with no dignity,
A journey with no sleep.

A poem written in response to California State Parks choosing to charge between $35 to $50 per night just to drive in and camp by the ocean.

About Amy Marschak

I have been writing since I was little and found myself bored but yet still trapped in a classroom. So instead of staring out the windows at school, I would write poetry in the margins of all of my school notes. And in this way I could pass the time without having to listen to the teacher when they were being boring or depressing. A few of these poems are in my first book “Poetry for All Those Breathing” which is now in its Seventh Printing. Poetry has always been a way for me to be heard by my family. If I would simply state how I felt, I would frequently be ignored but if I wrote it as a poem, what I had to say would be listened to. Sometimes my parents would even cry when they heard my poetry.