Here I sit, tired, shy of breath; looking to the crest up yonder.
Nothing but time, God’s time, my time; no matter, the existence of now. No tomorrow, no yesterday, I can’t even question the future; only the fluttering birds keep my attention. Maybe it’s the rock where I’m sitting on, maybe it’s the Rock I should be leaning on; don’t know, all I can do is sit here in my windward thoughts. Lost, in you.
So here I am, on the dusty edge of this dirt road, somehow knowing my direction, no compass to follow; no last stop Texaco map neatly folded in my pocket. But there is a map to follow, deep in my soul, I know the direction, no gizmo or topographical sheet of paper needed.
I see those that didn’t hear me, no longer do their actions bother me; because I’m going home. There’s a cottage, nestled in the heart pines, at the waters edge, I close my eye’s; I can see the light in the windows charm. A warm and tender cottage there, on this road, green pools and auburn breaths of life’s light waiting; distant hands calling, open, guiding.
The distant roads once travelled, the dust settled behind me, the ruts, stumbling block’s; all but memories. A feeling of loss surrounds me, misty in light, not drenching, strange comfort, surpasses the morphine drip; life’s pain subsidies with every step. No drug can give such peace, and yet, the soul remains full.
“I will permit no man… to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.” -Booker Taliaferro Washington, 1856-1915
Is knowledge the birth of wisdom, or are we born with wisdom, is that what déjà vu is, the ‘already seen.’ Have I been on this road before, going the other way in infancy, was I here before; is this road I’m on tempered with the forgiveness and understanding, both I have used well in my life. Does this road lead to a pearlescent light, are the basics of life on this road, do we learn the lessons so simple like building blocks, to build a life with to pull us through till some distant returning. The child’s questioning, why?
The morning sun on the crest, silent hanging in the air, the morning star, oh star light, star bright. Distant white, the wisteria gate, lavender hues, the scent of lilac all pink blue and vivid white; the longing end near, how silent the moment. The whispering dust beneath my feet, hushed in the dawning calm, it’s been decades long past that I was here; no foreboding wind, more an angelic breeze.
Distant now a voiceless word of the past, though the past not forgotten, the faces I take with me, embraced in my heart, is the heart my own shroud of Turin, where my loved ones will always be; the eternal ring of life where my love will be understood and forever seen.
Two visitors, one red, one gray and black, flanked by two well missed companions; the road short, seeing better now the life’s path taken, the blessings I never knew I had yet blessings I used. Hence the understanding of a life lived I would imagine, the understanding and forgiveness given and received, the constant looking, delving deeper into life’s meaning; a tragedy at times, but on other times, tranquil drenching beauty.
Nothing more comforting than the voice from behind me, soft, gentle, soothing. Soft tender hands touching my neck, tension gone, warmth and healing has begun, arms tender holding, words softly touch my ears, my senses Gracefully fill my heart and soul; the nectar so sweetly scented and filling to my life: Good morning Darlin, I love you!
Somehow, in depth of thought and Faith I know, I am not lost, I am not alone; the road I have been on was meant to be . . . That Road…
“The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.” – Anne Frank