Out on the flats, a heron still
as a hieroglyph carved
on the soft gray face of morning.

You asked, when I seemed far away,
what it meant but were gone
when I turned to you with an answer.

Nothing mysterious—hunger,
a taste for salt tides,
distance, and a gift of flight.
~Leonard Nathan, “Out on the Flats” from The Potato Eaters

All winter
the blue heron
slept among the horses.
I do not know
the custom of herons,
do not know
if the solitary habit
is their way,
or if he listened for
some missing one—
not knowing even
that was what he did—
in the blowing
sounds in the dark,
I know that
hope is the hardest
love we carry.
He slept
with his long neck
folded, like a letter
put away.
~Jane Hirshfield “Hope and Love” from The Lives of the Heart

I know what it is like to feel out of step with those around me, an alien in my own land. At times I wonder if I belong at all as I watch the choices others make. I grew up this way, missing a connection that I could not find, never quite fitting in, a solitary kid becoming a solitary adult. The aloneness bothered me, but not in a “I’ve-got-to-become-like-them” kind of way.

I felt like nothing mysterious, this having simple need for compatible companionship.
I just followed my own path, never losing hope of who I might find.

Somehow misfits find each other. Through the grace and acceptance of others, I found a soul mate and community. Even so, there are times when the old feeling of not-quite-belonging creeps in and I wonder whether I’ll be a misfit all the way to the cemetery, placed in the wrong plot in the wrong graveyard.

We disparate creatures are made for connection of some kind, with those who look and think and act like us, or with those who are something completely different. I’ll keep on the lookout for my fellow misfits, just in case there is another one out there looking for company along this journey and doesn’t mind me tagging along.

Walk down that lonesome road
All by yourself
Don’t turn your head
Back over your shoulder
And only stop
To rest yourself
When the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees

If I had stopped to listen
Once or twice
If I had closed my mouth
And opened my eyes
If I had cooled my head
And warmed my heart
I’d not be on this road tonight
Carry on

Never mind feeling sorry for yourself
It doesn’t save you from your troubled mind
Walk down that lonesome road
All by yourself
Don’t turn your head
Back over your shoulder
And only stop
To rest yourself
When the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees
~James Taylor and Don Grolnick

Look down, look down
That lonesome road
Before you travel on

Look up, look up
And seek your maker
Before Gabriel blows his horn

I’m weary of toting, such a heavy load
Trudging down, that lonesome road

Look down, look down
That lonesome road
Before you travel on

I’m weary of toting, such a heavy load
Trudging down, that lonesome road

Look down, look down
That lonesome road
Before you travel on
Before you travel on
~Madeleine Peyroux