A “Triumph” passenger kisses the solid ground.
Maybe you’ve just kissed the dry land after being on a drifting prison and you don’t know if you’ll ever feel clean again.
Maybe you just want a beer.
Maybe you were separated from old friends.
Maybe you connected with new ones.
Maybe you had to grow up.
Maybe you had to become young.
Maybe you’ve seen to much of your own weakness.
Maybe you’ve found you have hidden strength.
Maybe your exhausted from carrying the burdens and bio-hazard bags full of the stinking excrement of thousands of cranky, tired, dirty, people.
Maybe you’ll never again be able to listen to “Sweet Home Alabama” without crying.
Maybe the sight of the open sea is no longer beautiful to you.
Maybe the weight of your responsibility is crushing you.
Maybe all you could do was laugh.
Maybe all you can do is cry.
Making the best of a bad situation.
Maybe you’ve been sleeping like a refugee in a dark corridor for days.
Maybe you’re pissed.
Maybe you sat on a broke-down bus in complete disbelief.
Maybe you think you’re cursed.
Maybe you want to remember.
Maybe you need to forget.
Maybe you’ve gained a new perspective, a bit more empathy, a little patience, and some grace.
Maybe the poetic irony of the name “Triumph” gives you pause.
Just know, whatever you’re going through, someone cares.
Welcome home.