AFAR IN THE DISTANCE IS THE WAY UP

THINKING OF A JOURNEY

The mist only lets the tallest peaks out

to let the very  top o’ them breathe

the dryer colder air untainted.

I am yet standing a bit below cloud covered,

not having yet found the way to the peaks

where the sun shines, unveiling the fog of mystery.

I did not come with a sell by date imprinted on me,

though I feel my usefulness is long expired.

Some still come by and taste the mind of me

and do not appear to get sick as I extend my stick

always pointing them higher,

further than they thought they could ever go.

Places they belong

where the air is thinner

but the sun is shining clarity.

To me it feels as if the one who is drawing the cartoon

is the only one who is real,

the rest of us lines of ink on paper

sent to an assistant for coloring

in this gray foggy untended world

of too much death before the top is claimed

with not enough crowding on the mountain peaks.

I grab my stick,

steady myself, take one more staggering step

on the loose rock filled terrain upward.

I rest again

and wonder if

I am extending my life as I go slower towards the peak

where the earth ends and the sky begins.

I want to get there, if for no other reason than to find my true color

which I know is not this shroud of gray

questioning of misunderstanding.

I will get to the peak and then—look down

see the mist hiding from my sight the path

I took to get atop the mountain of my life

and see my choices are simple enough.

Jump back into the shroud for cover and safety from truth

or lay down all care and concern for my true color and jump

for the light of the sun never to return

to this place of mountains and fog again.

© M Durfee

1.25.2014