The Open Road
Open roadI stop in my tracks
stretch the hunched spine
weighted with the burdens
assembled from
too many hours
alone on the trail
it is time to shake some off
and look ahead
facing the wind
as it blows down from
the unknown ahead.
Can't move ahead
unless from time to time
I remember whence I started out.
So I look back and
re-trace my starting point
and wonder, even now
why I started the journey.
Was the road the pull
to walk or did
a goal beyond the bend
shuffle my feet in this direction?
As I straighten out
and lift my head
from watching only the landing
of my next step
I see the open skies
and raising my tribute
to the canopy of light
the road is swallowed
by the vista
traveled through,
not really seen.
I have been guilty
all along
of losing sight of
the worthwhile 'now',
dreaming only of a 'then'.
I have walked this open road
with closed mind
and no companionship
was ever less conducive
to understanding
than this uneven match.
The wandering jew in me
had trailed the tendrils
of the desired goal
through the dust
and I had never known
that travelling
is the art of being here
in one place after the other
as the feet can stride.
I have walked too fast
and gotten nowhere
I have looked ahead too much
and hated it
when the road came to a bend
I could not see the marigolds
and liverwort attending me
because the beauty that is here
was blurred by the invisible ahead
What traveling fool
will rush through
wonders
losing sight of moments
filled with exquisite pleasure
for a goal
imagined only?
The one that travels
down the open road
with a solidly
closed mind.
So I stand, windblown
and apologize to the road
that in seeing it
I took it's disappearing
up ahead
to be the urge
to rush along
unheeding, blind.
Now I see the road ahead
and promise it
another mode of walking.
Now.
Short story by Teddy Donobauer
Read 590 times
Written on 2007-07-03 at 07:54
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