Travel Poetry

Travel Poetry

The Rio Napo in Ecuador

Restlessly and irritable he looks back on his life

Wondering why this one time feels more important

Than other bridges he has crossed

Hopelessly he turns himself inside out

Looking for help to solve all the questions

The ones that he can’t answer, and doesn’t know where to find help

Although time seems to be going by so fast

Like the lightning flicker of yellow on a passing night train

Rafting in Tena Ecuador

He can’t help but be stuck in this moment

The small hand ticks painfully slow

Anxiety plagues this moment and can’t let him be

Patience is not a virtue but a tool of the apathetic

The light stays strong in the corner of the room

But the fire inside that burned is simmering

A blank slate doesn’t seem right, but neither does this moment

He wanders to the most random place

One where only he may know

Sits down and whispers to himself, partly hoping someone will hear

He looks back on the hopeless moments

All the times he realized he was alive

Even times he thought that he might be floating he felt the blood run in his veins

The current runs swiftly carrying leaves and twigs and shrubs

He must have sat there for hours

Could have been days, to him it seemed

Murky blue-green waters he hopes

Will provide the answers to this riddle

If only life were easy, then would he be waiting here?

He’s not sure what he’s queuing for

He’s not sure how much longer he should wait

Another light log floats past, another hour on his watch

The sound of the breaking rapid is so constant

Something he wishes was in his life

But whenever something’s normal he throws it out in spite

Repetitive whistles of birds overhead

Ants are busy around his knees

Each sound he hears he feels selfish, as they scurry for life

Each star carries meaning

Or that’s the story that they’ll tell

The moon hangs so carelessly, he’s jealous of that too

The light overtakes the stars

The moon settles into patterns of blue and white

He wishes his worry would disappear with them

The sun comes up and breeds a fresh hope

Something found not near but far

Elastic tension fades as he soaks the rejuvenated air

The walk this time isn’t lonely

The ground he walks is firm, and rich

He has nothing this time to fear

The morning bird’s song is happy

He yawns it all in, and bears a wide smile

‘Cuz this time he knows just where to go…

Written and Photographed by Brendan van Son

The World is My Jungle Gym


Author: Brendan van Son

Author: Brendan van Son is a travel writer and photographer from Alberta, Canada. He has visited 6 of the 7 continents and more countries than he has the desire to count. Check out his profile on . for a little bit more about him.

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2 Comments

    • Thanks a lot Ted! I appreciate it!

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