STORM

. . . you will be led where you do not want to go.
John 21:18

Where is the rope to clutch and hold,
to follow hand-over-hand?

Old age comes on strong,
strong as the winter storm
forecast for northern Minnesota
on last night’s news.

A blizzard is here, in me.
It is fierce, unrelenting,
and I am lost
in the center of it.
There is no going back.
And ahead . . . only a cavern
of the unknown.

Where is the rope to clutch and hold,
to follow hand-over-hand?

One by one, diminishments come,
defining my days.  Night-fears
tunnel hollow bones and swirl me
in the winds of this wilderness.

Anger burns within, melts
all resolve to age gracefully.
My soul stumbles
in shifting drifts;
my body, huddled, stark,
waits below
the darkening snow.

O where is the rope to clutch and hold,
to follow hand-over-hand?

 

 

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