Green, yellow, red
you can glance outside
to keep your windows shut.
The noises outside never fade
Sounds of car doors slamming
startle you in the middle of the night.
The scenery outside this metal monster
is always the same
Fumes of gasoline puffs up around you
Glaring red and black letters
tells you the price you pay
to cover the world
in a haze.
You let the music rise
and fill the space of your car
every single day.
You’d rather not hear
the constant current of noise outside
so if only for a moment
you do manage to escape it
with tunes and notes and chords
that transports you
to a blissful place
in your mind.
But these moments are always temporary
grimy concrete roads littered with
floating jellyfishes of plastic
rubber tires so elastic
glass shattered for the unpredictable, fantastic
thrill of it —
You see this
every single day.
the same line
every single day.
Sometimes you wonder what it would be like
to drive straight ahead
to a land where silence is a sound you can hear
where nothing is ever the same
where routine isn’t part of your day
where you can look out of the expanse of
sprinkled with snow
speckled with soaring pines
and say and believe with all honesty:
This is what pure bliss feels like.
What if you didn’t have to wonder?
What if you kept driving past
black puffs of exhaust
blinking traffic lights
trees stripped bare
and lost sight of everything familiar to you?
Rusted metal freeway rails
The clouds above cast
on the seemingly endless
Trailers park on the sides of the street
homes so old the walls peel apart
farming fields take over your vision
the road becomes narrower
until you can touch the branches
on either side of you
if you lean out of the window
just far enough.
Flash of white
you turn your head
snow is scattered light
on the ground up ahead
Weak trees sick from pollution
slowly gives way to soaring
majestic trunks of aburn red
tips hidden from view
by flashes of green
It makes you think
that perhaps some things
were meant to stay unseen
and too high up to grasp.
The sky seems more vibrant here
Instead of the mechanical sounds
that invade your mind at home
you hear the crinkling of deer
stepping on dried leaves
as it cautiously explores your campground
the crunch of hardened snow
beneath your feet
the soothing trickle of a stream
making it’s way down a hill
and your breath at night
drops of moisture visible
underneath the glare of your headlamp.
This is what happens when you keep driving
And the road once so familiar to you
turns into one
littered with fallen branches and leaves
stars splashed across the sky
reflected in puddles of melted snow
as you drive under the moonlight.
This is what happens
when you let yourself
The inspiration for “Lose Sight of Everything Familiar To You” came from how the scenery outside the car can change so drastically when I’m traveling from home to a place where I can camp. Rows of houses and stores fade away to grimy trees on the side of the highway, then to cattle grazing on rolling hills, farmland, and the occasional mini town that seems to thrive in the middle of nowhere with one gas station and one grocery store.
I love long car rides — the squished feeling of having backpacks and blankets and books and other bags all around you for five or more hours, needing to put your shoes back on to use the bathroom at a gas station, and seeing a new view every time you look out the window… it’s not something I’m able to experience every day, so I try and savor long car rides as much as I can when they do happen.
And since we’re on the topic of looking out the window, I feel like the transition of a typical city or town setting to a lovely, blissful, foresty setting is one of the best parts of driving to a campground. You get to see how different the setting is every minute that passes, and nothing is ever quite the same outside the window. Once I enter a national or state park, I feel like I’ve officially left civilization behind me, and consequently, all the things that might have been stressing me back at home — quotidian things like homework and checking the time so I’m not late and routine — just disappears. The knowledge that this pure bliss awaits in nature only makes the long car ride more enjoyable, and in a way, it makes the entire car ride a journey in itself.
It’s a journey where you lose sight of everything familiar to you as you look out the window.
I recently went on a camping trip to the Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks, where I got to test out my photography skills and recharge in nature. I’m so excited to challenge myself to capture the pure blissfulness and beauty of these two parks through words and photographs for the future posts on Sequoia and Kings Canyon!
The posts will be coming up soon, so keep your eyes out for them! I hope you enjoyed this poem, and I will cya next time!