I have a beautiful rucksack and it has set me free. For years I carried a variety of rucksacks around, with worn straps and a range of items in them.
It may seem daft to say that a rucksack has set me free, but since I’ve carried my navy rucksack with its draw string top and key rings from wonderful cities on, I have felt liberated.
A whole range of circumstances have to conspire to help free your mind. Sometimes just one little thing can flick a switch in your head and help you on the path to where you want to be.
But before that rucksack, there were others…
He couldn’t drive,
But walking everywhere was tiresome.
He carried a rucksack
And collections of short stories.
They varied over time.
It felt like penance
For some unknown indiscretion.
His shoulders ached
As he took his rucksack off when he arrived at work,
Equally so when he took it off
After getting home in the evening.
Yet still until he found the courage,
He carried the inspirations of others.
A crutch against his own success,
Debilitating in their beauty.
Rattling amongst broken pens,
A water bottle,
And bus pass.
Until he is as brave as his forbears,
He’ll carry his rucksack.