Travel

Old Things

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Like so many people around the world, I was shocked and saddened to see the news about the fire at Notre-Dame in Paris. Though I’ve never visited this cathedral (I hope to someday), I found its near destruction to be disheartening. I feel like so much of our world and our existence has become virtual and fleeting. (No, this is not an anti-technology or anti-social media rant. I believe both have an important role to play in our lives.) It made me feel a little hollow to think about one of the world’s great ancient treasures going up in smoke.

The fire in Paris coincided with a trip to Washington, D.C. I was on with a group of high school seniors. We spent several days walking through museums and other buildings that either housed relics or were relics in their own right. The juxtaposition of the cathedral disaster and what I was seeing on my trip impressed upon me the value and importance of our ancient treasures. I wrote this poem as a response.

My Ribbon of Road

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This poem was inspired by a particular spot on the highway that I pass on my way home from Trader Joe’s each week. Those few brief moments when I drive around the curve and glimpse the mountains of western New Hampshire have become very dear to me. In the midst of the mundane (grocery shopping) is a gorgeous reminder of things elevated and transcendent.

My friend, there are fluttering moments of beauty and peace out there dangling from the treetops. May you find them and hold them dear.

Down the Stretch

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As a part of my progression into poetry, I've noticed that certain occasions or events lend more poetic inspiration to me than others.

Driving is one of those occasions. When I'm on a long drive, I tend to become more observant of the features around me and more contemplative about my life than I am during my daily routine. There's just something about being held captive in a car with nothing to look at (as the driver) but the land around and the road ahead.

Here's the poem. I hope you enjoy it.

On the Evening of March 11, 2018 (Time Change)

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As my interest in writing has increased over the last few years, my interest in photography has also grown. I find a similar objective in both pursuits--to capture the moment. Whether it's through words or images, I love the challenge of zeroing in on the specifics of an instant in time and looking for the beauty, pain, hope, and sadness that can be found therein.

About a month ago, we enjoyed a lovely Sunday afternoon with family celebrating my niece's birthday. As we drove home that evening, I thought with great satisfaction of how pleasant the day had been. I was struck with the strong desire to hit "pause" and relish the day as long as I could. For a few fleeting minutes, "just now was my only ambition in life." (Haven't we all felt that way at one time or another?)

This poem was my best attempt to capture the essence of the day...

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Chasing Ambulances

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This poem is the result of two specific events in my life. 

First, I read a book about a decade ago in which the author mentioned that his father told him to pray whenever he heard or saw an ambulance with its lights and siren on because it meant that someone somewhere was in trouble. I've never forgotten that. Though I don't always pray when I see an ambulance, I find that I'm often filled with a sense of dread and anxiety when one passes by with lights flashing and siren wailing.

Second, when I was driving along the interstate in Nashville a couple of weeks ago, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw an ambulance far behind me on the road. It was an odd sensation to see the emergency vehicle chasing me from so far away. My inclination was to pull over right then, but that wouldn't have made any sense. All I could do was drive, watch, and wait for it to catch up to me and then pass me by. I felt like the moment provided good potential for a poem, so I started sketching out some ideas that day.

I'm pretty happy with the result. What do you think?

 

Chasing Ambulances

by Andrew D. Doan

 

I’m traveling.

Moving about in a rental—

This temporary home of my ambition.

 

Shrill lights

Reflected into my vision

Are arresting my attention.

 

An ambulance—

Harbinger of trouble and pain—

Is rushing down the road behind me.

 

It’s distant.

Barely cresting above the horizon,

Too remote to hear its wail,

 

But it’s gaining.

Other vehicles give right of way,

And it’s moving ever closer—

 

Chasing.

Still too far for me to yield,

But impossible to ignore.

 

Approaching

With chilled foreboding

As if driven by the Reaper himself.

 

It passes by

To find the one in need

Leaving me behind with a sense of dread and gloom.

 

I resume

My travels ever mindful and wary of the day

When it will seize the right of way and stop for me.

 

“And yet,”

I hear myself say, “Don’t forget

The siren sound also means that help is on the way.”