Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: Sojourners

And So, He Goes
(for our traveling friend, George)

Can there be
any better place
than just around the bend?

Goodbye once again
His car crammed with stuff,
fairly brimming with

all the absolute necessities
plus a few luxuries- an old quilt
to nestle in, dreamgazing

Sojourning toward Someday
Will it end, this road,
this exquisite journey?

Or will he fall
Touch down softly
where peace and love are waiting?

Where he feels
alive, vital at last
At present, tense – but future…

Don’t give up on
these outrageous dreams
of belonging somewhere as unique as you are

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Three Word Wednesday (Fall, Absolute, Nestle), and posted at The Poetry Pantry, Poets United.

Our friend George (buddy since high school) has been traveling for so long, it’s almost a game, like Where’s Waldo? Where in the World is George Sandiego? He’s on the type of quest we all dream of making, once we’re of an age and a mindset to understand the meaning of the Taj Mahal while standing in front of it. He’s taking his time, keeping in touch, and Lex and I pray for him always, as he figures out this grand scheme, this labyrinth of possibility we blithely refer to as Life.

Folks, I’m amazed I’m even posting, but PAD means exactly that – a poem a day for the month of April. I KNOW I HAVE NEGLECTED RESPONDING TO YOUR COMMENTS FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS. I humbly ask for your patience: It’s Holy Week. Tonight, I am coordinating the ritual portion of a Seder at Lake Edge UCC. Soon I’ll respond, I promise.

Today is a special day for a very special friend. This is her story…


She’s moving again
Unsettling – like the trap door
fell out from under
her well-worn sandals

How many times has she
Called Two Men & A Truck?
They know her by name
But this time is different

New, her own sweet space
New keys, placed in her palm
by friends who love her
Feels like coming home

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads… too late to post there, but the prompt was: Find four words and create a poem out of them. My words were Home, Keys, Feels, and New. Also posted with my buds at Poets United, as always. Peace, and happy moving, Monica! Amy