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“The Road” by Janice Holland-Hill

I have traveled this road

more days than I can remember.


today it is new.


I didn’t know

what tomorrow would bring.


I do.

And though the

miles ahead are many,

I am at peace.

I have traveled this road

more days than I can remember.


today it is new.

Though my eyes have explored it

time and time again,

it is not the same road

and I stop to wonder… why?

Then I realize….

it is not the road that is new,

it is me.

These sights

were always here.

It was I who wasn’t.

Never have I seen

such symmetry in corn rows

meeting horizons

or telephone poles breaking the sky,

tilted at whatever angle

meets their repose.

I laugh at a calf

charging an egret so white.

And my heart rips out loud

at the twisted shape of a cat

and the ruby red of a fawn

whose last moments were framed

on the tar of this road.

I marvel at the sight

of black dirt waiting

to come to life

with the kiss of a seedling.

And hawks lying in wait

behind plumage

the color of the earth.

I ache at the sight

of a bird in distress

but it’s only gravity’s grasp

inciting the bird to spin

upward as it races

to find the sky.

My eyes rest upon

the carcass of a boat

at the river’s edge

and I wonder at

the memories stored

beneath its silent hull.

My soul winces

at the throb in my fingers

as I grasp the wheel,

reminding me

of all that

brought me to

this road.

There is pain

on this road ahead,

but also… strange peace.

For I know

that the landscape of my eyes

is at this moment

a reflection

of all that I hold in my heart.

And I give thanks

that I can see.

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