THE SOJOURNER

  Stranded at a standstill on the edge of blue and sky The Sojourner, my spirit, whispered “fly” Beyond this Desolation where Eternal voices cry Down the highway where the dreamers go to die My vagrant’s desperation for a better place to be Set its course to trust the dream and drive in me I got the hell out young, alive, still holdin’ 17 Charlotte’s suitcase and a poor boy’s pedigree     It was on a Thursday morning, ever grateful for that day At 5 AM I wrote my heart and soul away My hope was now a ticket on a never ending train A brand new guitar and some songs about the rain Richard Manuel’s mother sat beside me for awhile “You in a band”? she asked, I said, “no ma’am I’m not” “I’m just going to Toronto where I hope they’ll dig my style” My sense of purpose caused her face to smile a lot “My son is in a band” she said, “you may have heard of them” “What’s their name”?  I asked of her, “they’re called The Band” she said “The Ba