Since the close of SSU’s Winter semester, my life has been consumed with saying farewell to friends, beginning (and completing) a plethora of Europe assignments, and tripling the size of my forearms by scraping paint from the exterior of an old New Brunswick home.
Yes, things have been fairly busy around these parts, and despite all the ‘hoopla’ that has surrounded the preparation for these next two months abroad, I realize that I have not yet had a real opportunity to consider how I feel about what lies ahead. I’m not sure whether I am filled with sheer delight at the thought of spending two months in Europe, or whether that feeling in my gut is just anxiety and hesitation.
And, in the short space of this blog, I have still not been able to figure it out. However, if the words won’t come to me, then perhaps the words of another might do better. I finish this meager entry with a poem by Carl Sandburg which, I think, speaks fairly well to that inexpressible feeling that dances through my spirit on the eve of this new adventure.
?The Road and the End
I shall foot it
Down the roadway in the dusk,
Where shapes of hunger wander
And the fugitives of pain go by.
I shall foot it
In the silence of the morning,
See the night slur into dawn,
Hear the slow great winds arise
Where tall trees flank the way
And shoulder toward the sky.
The broken boulders by the road
Shall not commemorate my ruin.
Regret shall be the gravel under foot.
I shall watch for
Slim birds swift of wing
That go where wind and ranks of thunder
Drive the wild processionals of rain.
The dust of the travelled road
Shall touch my hands and face