From here the pathway opens,
forest thinning into meadow pond,
gnarled pines sweetening the air,
stillness steeping from the bedrock,
weight carried from the trailhead
dissolving in the dirt track,
breaking down like memories
under mountain sun;
wherever you are you are also here,
easing the thorn caught suffering
for a view of grass in morning breeze,
track of deer along the water’s edge,
the voice that called you long ago
speaking through the wind,
comforting the ache,
the lead like burden,
in this quiet place
where you are known.
The path will lead back to your life
and all its harsh restraint
but what is gone leave gone.
What you bring back will grow
like seeds rooted years ago,
a tree against the wind,
gathering from grass and stone
through root and branch
your tree of life, your shade, your seeding,
gifts beyond the furthest edges of your hope.