A Journey

The following work is the 12th revision of a piece I originally wrote in the early 70's.

It's partly truth and partly fiction.

A Journey

From the face of the seething sun
I approach, in fear, the house from which I'd run.
In my boots of lead stumbling up the stairwell,
my eyes drag over the worn carpet
as I approach a vaguely remembered apartment.
I knock softly upon a warped and sagging door,
quickly I turn,
again to flee,
stopping at the snap of an opening lock,
I turn,
my breath paralyzed,
as if between two seconds caught.
Raising my eyes,
I see her face as if in granite carved,
unreadable emotion.
With a nod of her head,
she beckons me in.
A shroud of silence drapes her sanctuary,
broken only as I sit upon a crumbling sofa,
and she across the room.

Remembering:
the fragrance that is her,
her touch, so gentle,
her voice, a symphony.

In my mind, rehearsing the words,
so painfully planned,
searching for my voice.

A sound,
unfamiliar,
motion from a darkened room,
raising my head,
I see!
O, what is this that I see?
A small shape emerging from the shadows,
my questioning eyes race from child to mother,
slowly, sadly, she nods an affirmation.
My heart flutters madly,
the breath forced from my lungs,
a flood in my eyes,
washing away my words,
washing away the time,
washing the clouds from my memory.

Drifting, a would-be poet,
an aimless frightened child in the clothes of a man;
playing games of freedom,
weaving words into half truths,
tales for those who would listen.

When the winter winds wind down from the mountains,
nighttime in Denver takes a bitter edge;
for the lonely and lost,
the frightened, forsaken and forgotten,
it is a time to take refuge from the cutting flange,
a blade as sharp as the relentless, haunting reality.

An all night diner,
freshly poured coffee,
darkness at the bottom of the cup;
gazing through the steam,
I see my old adversary;
Wearing his cloak of fear,
the beast sits across the table,
I hear his mocking laugh, and
I know the leash remains secured to my to my heart.

All the long night,
smiling as she filled my cup,
over and over, she tried to make conversation;
in my fear,
I could only mumble.

As dawn broke over the flatlands,
I rose to leave.
Timidly, she took my arm,
asking, in turmoil, if I needed a place to sleep.

Strangely familiar, this woman-child.

Clouds of doubt battling a shimmer of hope,
heart and mind locked in mortal combat,
dare I take a chance?

Driving in silence,
glancing once or twice my way,
she smiled.

Fearfully entering behind her,
I felt the warmth;
here were peace and love.

Sitting on the sofa,
watching her,
not a thing to fear,
no reason to flee.

She gazed into my eyes,
I told my story
                (she smiled)
of many fearful flights
                (she cried)

The sun was well into the sky as she
helped me off my well worn boots
and led me to her bed.
My loneliness.lying in corner beneath  faded jeans;
sunlight slipped though tattered curtains as I stole
between the icy sheets,
my fear forgotten.

Nimble fingers eased the miles from my bones,
teased the chill from my soul, and
stilled the trembling of my heart;
her gentle touch kindled a fire deep in my loins,
a flood of passion I could smell in the air,
her taste on my tongue as she moved over me like a storm;
joined in urgency,
in a frenzy,
minds and souls merged.

Fear forgotten as sleep took me.

Awakened at noon,
she would return soon.

I heard not the turn of the key,
the warmth of her presence crept into my dreams,
as hours became days became weeks, and
each morning her crystal blue eyes begged me stay.

Early morning walking,
from the shadows, stepped my old companion,
walking became running,
without a word, I was gone.

I could not look back,
the tears I could not bear,
the pleas I could not hear
inducing ascending fear,
love to ashes, and
that scattered by the wind.

weeks, months,
a year and more,
running.

Crystal eyes hold the tears of many
lonely nights;
quiet lady blue,
what will ease the pain,
what might I do?
If I offer love,
without fear,
my life,
with no restlessness,
will you take them?



© 2008 Michael Shelby