finding comfort now in steeples and trees,
but burdensome memories
loom on the breeze.
disquiet and distress break the reverie,
dragging you in
to a lost memory.
before you now lie smokey green lanes;
a yellow brick road
runs through your veins.
but now staring in wonder—long forgotten ways,
untrodden for centuries,
fall under your gaze.
and alone you do travel this broken line:
a pilgrim’s journey
from a long distant time.
quietly now they whisper to you;
long spears of grass
would pierce hearts anew.
what will become of these heavenly trails,
once carrying the hopes
of hearts in travail?
when you wander along, what do you see—
an empty grass field,
or a pilgrim’s trail like me?