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The Road to Nowhere
Dust kicked up from the footpath
settles in your eyes,
mud sinking in a bottomless body of water.
The rubble scattered around you
crunches under the weight of your shoes,
the remnants of your own broken bridges
pressing into the bottoms of your feet.
Part of me wishes you’d look up
to see the mountains above you
and the birds and the sky and the clouds,
the footprints of God before your eyes,
but my heart knows you’ll never notice
the life waiting just above your reach.
A hundred whispered prayers
echo through God’s ears
and end up as the rotten leaves at the roadside,
good intentions buried in a shallow grave.
The road to nowhere is paved with betrayal.
It pulls at your legs like the spiny hands
of a career criminal, too fast to see,
too magnetic to struggle against,
so you follow the path around the mountain’s edge
two concentric circles
running into one another,
entwined, like the hands of lovers
yet alienated from the world
and lacking direction.
Someday,
Maybe...
you’ll look to the top
of the mountain with fresh eyes
and see what has been there all along,
waiting in the shadows like a letter to be opened
and read, a letter soaked with hope
and dried by a breath of heaven,
“When you love yourself again,
the top of the mountain
is closer than you think.”
__________________
"If you live to be one hundred, I want to live to be one hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you." ~Winnie the Pooh~
www.literarymary.com
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