NOTES FROM A JOURNEY

 

Morning breaks.

I watch the heavens light up.

A bright orange streak paints the sky.

The garden pavers look like stepping-stones to the sun.

I walk.

I step.

I bend to pluck a flower from the earth. The tug of surrendering is strong, dusty and unsettled.

Yet, I rise toward a forward moving current, in the air, speeding toward closure.

Grief is my guide.

It is a companion that lingers. Dissolving, if it ever does, like salt in a broth.

A seasoned loss.

Past experiences flood me with images.

I look east to childhood. I keep thinking it’s over there somewhere. Remember me?

Emptiness is sitting in the space where I thought I left it.

I hear the intricate melody of a song never sung. Without warning it becomes a deep dark cry.

Now begins the missing part.

The never, in forever.

“Sit down and tell the truth,” I say aloud. “It is the essence of every moment. “

Well, the fact is, there is a lot of truth to tell. I’m not so sure I can stay seated for all of it.

 

 

 

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