The Call by Andrew Scott


Part I – The Call

No one knew where I was going,
no even me, or when or if
I would ever be back.
My soul told me it was time to leave.

This time of my life
was such a crossroad
of up and down emotion.
Was not ready for any of it.

The unexpected had taken over.
The loss of a loved one
that I knew was going to pass
however knowing did not
make the feelings control themselves.

Added to a marriage separation,
the loneliness of a horrid job.
All within a year, I was done.

Sleep was missing,
the mind racing.
My inner-self pulled
to places I did not wish to call

Packing, I had to go
to where I am sitting now.
Friend, family did not understand
but I did not ask them too.
Had to rediscover myself.

to see what is outside.


Part II – Acadians

Packing essentials into
my traveling hotel.
I decided to visit a place
in the north of our province
I had always been curious about.

Settled in the north
were a group of people
we called the Acadians.
People who were forced
to relocate their homes in isolation
many centuries ago.
Sadly the city I grew up in
was part of this conflict.
I could not even imagine.

Saddled in my traveling caravan
I arrived at night.
A nice August night.
Warm enough that sleeping
in the sleeping bag was hot
however so peaceful.

Woke up to the screams
of people walking past
waving flags of blue,
white, red and gold stars.
Marching the streets,
celebrating who they are.

Smile came over my cranky face.
I realized that when searching for
a needed, morning coffee,
that their beautiful French language
was something I did not know.
Thankfully the cashier understood
my horrific attempt.

Spent the day exploring
this generous community.
Such a family feel.

It was not the last time
on these travels of mine
that this was experienced.
It was most impactful.


Part III – Wine

After a few days in the
northern part of my province
I packed the sleeping bag
and decided to go west
to see what was out there.

About seven hours later
I entered wine country.
So many fields of fruit
ready to be picked
at the right temperature.

Deciding to pull into one
for a souvenir for later
I took out my packed camera
and went inside.

The showroom was packed
full of choices, either white or red.
An older gentleman
started a polite conversation.
Turned out he was the owner
and once I told him
where I was from,
he gave me the freedom to explore.

I walked the fields for hours
camera in tow.
Though the quiet serenity
was a picture you could not take.
So beautiful.

Went back inside
to get a couple of bottles
that I was not charged for.
The owner gave a wink
and wished safe travels.
Speechless at the hospitality
as I moved on.


Part IV -Dream

Not poistive about the time
it was when I woke from my dream.
Though it was not a nightmare
I was covered in sweat.

In the dream, I was sitting
on a bench staring out into space,
not knowing where I was.

Talking to my mom
who had just passed,
like it was anyday
until, in the dream, she left.
That is what woke me.

I was not ready for her to leave.
Still not.

Knew I was not going back to sleep
so I started the caravan up,
found a loud radio station
and started to drive.
Wiping away tears.


Part V – The Line

A few days on the road
to clear the mind
was the perfect remedy.

Excitement grew as I saw
the sign to where I was headed.

When I was younger
I read about a haunted road
in the middle of our country.
A book that may not
have been appropriate to read
at he age I did
but it was enjoyed either way.

As I approached the road
it fell off my direction system
though everything was present.
Lush greenery o each side of the road.

Parked the vehicle
and started walking the Line.
Folklore states this is what
a person is to do.

It was one of the creepiest
experiences of my life
in this little trip.

The sun was going down
and the road was still in front of me,
looked as normal as any,
Homes looking nice and quaint.

Not positive if the habitants
felt what I felt
because I did feel the spirits.
Such an eerie feeling.
They were there
as the book said.
Unsettled souls of a murdered family.

As I got back into my caravan
the smile did not stop.
I had waited many years
to find out if folklore was true
and as I drove away
I can say it was.


Part VI – The Mines

After about three days
of driving without direction
I arrived in an old, foggy town
in the dead of night,
A great place to get sleep.

When I woke
it was a little lighter
but there was still fog
combined with a cool rain.

A walking tour,
after finding a coffee shop,
help me stumble across an old mine trip.

Turned out I was in
an old mining town
with a rich history in coal.

The tunnels were dark
and with a low ceiling.
Was hunched over the whole time
as I was too tall.
Anyone over five feet would be,

Trying to imagine
what it would have been like
to work in such a small place.
The past accidents here
made the mind shiver.
Could not think
of working in a place
where you did not
know if you were going home
at the end of the day.

Breathing fresh air
once I was done,
stretching out the legs
felt so good.

Walking over to a park
that was at the edge of the ocean.
Looking out, my mind became clear.
It was time to go home.



Part VII – The Drive

Going home is a long drive.
A lot of time to think.
To get the nerves to regroup.

I had to accept the change
that is now my life
Accept that it will not be the same.

In this personal torture
the weight left
as the depression gained.

Starting over will be hard.
I do know many good people
that will always help
without being asked.

I will bebuild, stronger.

March 16, 2020
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy


February 1, 2020
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2020


Follow Andrew

Andrew Scott is a native of Fredericton, NB. During his time as an active poet, Andrew Scott has taken the time to speak in front of classrooms, judge poetry competitions as well as had over 200 hundred writings published worldwide in such publications as The Art of Being Human, Battered Shadows and The Broken Ones. 

Andrew Scott has published five poetry books, Snake With A Flower, The Phoenix Has Risen, The Path, The Storm Is Coming and Searching and one book of photography, Through My Eyes.


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