| WE ARE STILL WALKING (for L.C.T.) |
| The hardest trail we walked was the rail bed in Savannah abandoned to all but the promise of snakes – Gray gravel with no grass for our feet, A canopy of sun leaving just breath to breathe Until water was manna that I poured on my neck, thinking “Never enough,” Until I walked the floors of a hospice waxed clean of tread and tears While the white knife of cancer carved the flesh from your bones and the timbres from your voice … That day I left you wrapped in sheets and bags of fluid, when all the water in my eyes would never be enough. I knew then I’d been wrong, that this path was the hardest. Yet we are still walking. You stride across my mind with your resolute tread and strong back unbent. I can level the trail of memory as I wish, discarding bad days like pebbles kicked from dirt. There My footing is sure and you are still beside me with your face turned towards the sun, And we are still walking. |
Copyright by Lucie M. Winborne
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Anne's Place