Years weigh down the lane I travel.
The dust has settled, as have I.
Even the air seems dense and pale,
too easy to inhale or exhale.
My pace must slow,
each foot placed just so.
Should I fall the earth would feel
hard as glass.
We both would shatter.
Eyelids weighted by experience
of both grief and joy dim the view ahead
of this road I know
must end, sooner than I’d wager,
anyone would hope.
It grows quieter here.
My ears have dried with my tears
remembering long lost friends and family.
Crystals form within bright as stars
then shift from their moorings
as I walk, daring me to fall and jar
the brittleness of each new morning.
So, I slow. But still, I go.
Where? None of us really know.
which makes this journey
an adventure beyond this space,
an exploration of love and grace.
annarino writes 