Very much just another blog

The path

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Imagine this:

I am walking a long straight road. To the side of me, behind the white picket fence, is a family. I watch them talk; I watch the father grab a falling line and steady a branch that waves out of reach, lower it to grasping fingers stretched out to hold. Oh the smiles, the love. I should stop to talk and hear how that post was knocked sideways in the wind or how the babies grow but, though my pace does slow, I find my truth and of course I don’t want to know.

How can it be, I wonder, that on a path so straight I should need a map or a note to say: you can endure the things which will befall you. Or rather it would mark the tree, the one in the stories, with a box beneath and inside packed tight the gold and answers and magic beans that fuel a traveler like me. Instead white fence may as well be glass. I watch the family taste the things I would like to taste, but taste them together and I swear I heard the man say, with his eye on me: I will be there. I press my palm white and flat and look right back, but how this breaks me, how this hurts.

Days slowly become nights and nights turn softly to days. In the small hours, when I fall asleep, I stretch my shoulders out to make more mass so a hand can’t pass through, so that I will be bigger, so that my flesh will be heavier and my heart will beat louder and my blood will rush faster. And, yes, I see the night, but I can make it through.

The sun always rises, as I was promised it would. The earth spins and the earth rocks and the planets are faithful to time and space and orbit line. The things that will hurt loom large. I set my body and run.


Written by elikafm

October 16, 2010 at 1:48 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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