Dusty roads
call me on,
into the never-was,
and into
the ‘ever-gone.
There is a map
tattooed on my soul
and it leads
to restful sleep,
a mournful R.I.P.,
on my marker stone.
With a mirror,
backlit by candlelight,
the reversed image,
a beacon-in-my-night,
speaks only the truth
of forward movement
into these sunsetting days.
This is the gift you gave me
and it will see me through.
I read your words,
etched into a silver compass,
your own final wish,
this travel mantra,
“Find it.”
…a meaning
both murky and wise,
you left for me
to define,
translate,
and describe,
from these notes,
annotations,
and scribbles…
there’s a message
in the soul-map’s margins
and what it truly says
is what I will discover,
and only then,
to sleep,
will I surrender.
©️ 2019.
I’m in a somber mood, but I see adventures ahead. Once I push through this thorny hedgerow, I can keep moving.
