More Miles of Bad Road

More Miles of Bad Road

(“Therefore, I hated life because the work that was done under the sun was distressing to me. For everything is futile and a pursuit of the wind.” Ecclesiastes 2:17)

Winter roads are the worst; first it rains, then it freezes,
then the asphalt is a plate glass coffee table; nothing visible
except the bent fists of wind that throw dirty dust and snow
across the sliding surface. And we knew there were more miles
of bad road ahead.

And so, in a hurry, we slowed to a crawl. Life was frozen.
Once a river of life for swimming and picnics,
baptisms and reunions,
now as solid as a strong box. There was no
breaking in.

And so we did not stop for the view; what was there to see?
The snow turned to fog, blind as a ghost,
and the most we could do was stop two nights sooner,
brought to a halt by nothing more than vapor in the air.

We wouldn’t have cared,
but we were nearer and nearer the journey’s end
with time running out,
with pain the traffic could not see
(we would have done better to puncture a tire
and hope for a hand along the road).

But with pain higher than the clouds that dropped
winter ice,
and time slower than a glacier
we moved (or did not move) it depends on
your perspective.

It’s easier to wait near the beginning of a journey,
but near the end home is in view,
family waits for you,
friends are looking for you,
and with every hour the trip is slowed
are fewer moments and less joy with the beloved
who you hold in your heart while
you grip, knuckle-white, the steering wheel
meant to take you to a new start
at the old place
where the bed fits your frame
and the voices engrained in your mind
are the very first sounds of the morning.