Outsider [sonnet]

Posted on Updated on

outsider

Some people are destined to be alone.
Like it or not they wander through the earth
as flotsam at sea — kings without a throne.
Naked they stay as on their day of birth.

Preordained as pilgrims of the planet;
gathering wisdom from wounds which won’t heal.
Writing their runes on great slabs of granite;
secrets of heart to the world they reveal.

Yet even though they walk a rough-hewn road
and have no shelter from life’s raging storms
a dignity of sorts will be bestowed
to comfort them to live outside all norms.

On mountaintops (despite their scene remote)
they keep their equilibrium afloat.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s