It’s not a wide path
and it’s not straight.
Thorns and underbrush
tear at your clothing,
the ground rough with stones,
in some places bog.

Once in a while
you break out
to the bend of a river
where you stand clear
on a cobbled beach,
or on the tip of a ridge
where the surround
of mountains
and forest green
come into view.

Those are moments of joy
and you store them
like dried fruit
in the depth of your pack.

Then you walk on,
not looking back,
with faith that somewhere
in the unknown distance
the village of belonging
will welcome you home.

 

photograph by Brenda Jenkins

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “In the Unknown Distance” with music by Bonnie Raitt

 

 

13 Responses

  1. Don, this is well-crafted. I share your enthusiasm and optimism for the future as well as the past. Thank you for each week’s Sunday beauty.

  2. In your prophetic words, Don, “The village of belonging will welcome you home”, I hear Oneself Aloft bringing moments of Joy to the earth-shaken soul amid its sojourns into the Unknown. May such moments be constant.

  3. Your poem triggered questions- do I feel a profound sense of belonging? What does belonging mean to me? I enjoyed this poem, always more so when you read. Poignant, familiar, resonant with my experience. Thank you.

  4. Our ability to maneuver the thorns and underbrush plus cherish home is what makes life interesting and exciting………..all is well! Love, this one, Don!

  5. This is the wholesome perspective, known now and throughout the ages by those who chose to walk home along the path of divine destiny. Simply exquisite Don

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