8:27 p.m. - Tuesday, Apr. 15, 2003
But darkness prevails, branches smite face, legs
My step is much slower than at first
Do you hear?
We walk, sometimes hand-in-hand
Sometimes out front
No matter…we walk within reach
Where is the meadow?
Is there a green meadow?
Smooth rock upholds me, thoughts circulate
Conflicted is a word gone by
I make no room for it
Decisions—mine, mine alone
I want to stay….yet not at any cost
Life, living, joy even amongst the discards
Someone else’s leftover ash
Now….rising…a shaft temporarily pausing between temples
Rising….joy….wordless prayer…incense to God
Love…..it’s own reward