I travel where no one
may follow,
Away from the light, into the silence.
Time passes slowly, I have no pictures or stories
From my journey. Always I return no wiser than before.
My journeys have robbed me of time in the world,
Days unmarked by my presence within the bustle.
What would I be now if not for the journey?
When others have walked onward, I have fallen behind.
My journey, I hide from those not on the path.
In shame I keep the secret of so many pills,
And so much pain.
I am without fault, yet still I hide from hostile eyes.
A small child follows me who does not know the way;
Unbidden she makes the journey into the darkness.
I reach out to lead the way, to make provision and
Comfort for her. Her way is marked with my tears.
In summer I lay on the red rocks of Zion,
My pain baked from in the late afternoon sun.
The world spinning, then stopping at that quiet
Place on the rock, no wind, no sound, only peace.
Sometimes by the ocean, the endless murmur of the sea
Replaces the rhythm of pain with stillness in my soul.
And in that place, I know where I have been and what I own,
But it does not own me.
