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.

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