Pilgrim Path

This blog is the work of a seeker and poet. Walking stick in hand, I head out into the world, not of the world, but in the world. My words and my friends carry me along and light the pilgrim path of spiritual journeys.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Sometimes, the story of the journey comes from the people you meet...


She sat down in a nearby chair,
No, wait, she was already there,
It was I who selected my seat.
Seemed like a nice, quiet spot,
she looked busy, all hunched over.
I began to read but soon heard a low murmur.
Glancing over I noticed the cell phone
tightly held to her ear.
Her voice was soft but insistent,
pleading in tone, “But you hurt me.”
Any thoughts of reading,
or at least remembering what I’d read
disappeared in the heavy air.
“I had to confide in someone.”
Images of dark rooms and darker conversations
began to swirl in my head.
Leaning forward almost as much as she
I tried to catch the loose threads of the story.
Hands to her face, to catch tears before they
streaked her face and everyone would know;
she sat in silence while he tried to stitch

their life back together.
I wanted to help, to tell her it was too late,
I didn’t know her, but I knew her type:
she thought she deserved him.


Anonymous K said...

This is insightful.

9:55 PM  
Anonymous AMP said...

Stitch their back life together. Creative use of a metaphor.

2:23 PM  

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