A Traveler

When I abruptly arrived at this awareness 

I found myself in the midst of traversing 

traveling, as it were, through an oddly familiar forest 

Some of the fauna carried the scent of recognition 

 

Beckoned by these memorable woods 

The uneasy feeling of deja vu 

I seemed to know the direction to take

Though the path was a stranger to me

However, recognition was fleeting 

Soon the vines tried to hold me

And the underbrush tried to encumber me

I found myself lost and running

 

(Why is it, when you aren’t sure where you are going,

Getting there faster seems like a good idea?)

 

Finally I emerged from the thickness

Into a picturesque clearing 

The bluest ocean I had ever seen

Gently brushed against the greenest shoreline

 

Nearly at the water's edge

Was a lamp on a blackened mast

Reminiscent of days gone by 

Which seemed to shine

Brighter than the light of the cloudless sky

 

I was drawn inexorably toward it

As I got closer it appeared to brighten

 

There beside the light was a bench

Of wrought iron and wood

Ornate and inviting as the light

The bench welcomed me

 

As I sat on it

I could feel its welcome

Nearly as an embrace

 

I luxuriated in the warmth of the light

My every sense sought out its affection

 

The more I reached

The more I realized

There was no light

On the blackened post

The light was no light at all

But a bell

 

Blackness enveloped me

As the ringing rang out

I was bathed in the coldness

Of the sound

The ocean grew fainter

The lush shoreline faded

 

All that was left

Was the embrace of the bench

And the sound

Ringing

Sweeping over me

Rocking me

In the darkness of sound

 

The cold emotionless wave

Eroded the edges of my hurt

 

It filled me

It covered me

It lulled me into its sleep

Possibly to dream

Or just to stop thinking

For one night

 

Just one night

 

© Ron Simpson, Jr.