Prayers for the Open Road


At dawn’s light,
I rose to the aching.
Distinct and familiar,
it’s like an old friend.
I took to the road
to sit with it’s company;
a co-pilot in the seat beside me,
it needed to be heard.

Music and backroads,
rolling clouds and solace.
There are promises
and breakdowns
not meant for other’s ears.
So I talk to god and myself;
constantly being undone
by the green of new leaves
and the persistent  blue sky
reminding me I’m alive.

My passenger is now silent,
knowing I’ve listened.
Aware that I grasp
for that which I cannot have;
falling in love
with the impossible outcome.
I know this ache
like I know the touch
of her skin
when it’s warmed
by my palm;
like I know the pattern
of the river
that winds through the city
in my dreams.

I know all of the prayers
I have offered
on the open road;
shining stones and coins,
offerings left
in place of my own blood.
It’s a conversation that
will never be enough,
even when balance is maintained.
My passenger sits,
a still reminder
of the silent dreams
I carry every day.


2 thoughts on “Prayers for the Open Road

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