A younger me stares back at me,
From a photo of where I used to be,
And I never can tell, is she giving me hell,
Or is she just challenging me?
She’s stood at the spot that you speak of,
Where the road becomes suddenly ridge,
Not surprised, yet with amazement,
She mused at the no-longer bridge.
The day before rain was torrential,
The night before: all was afloat,
She wondered if her old house trailer,
Would soon become a house boat.
But the valley that loved her had mercy,
It valued her faith in its ways,
So it sent a Wood Spirit for guidance,
And in due time, receded the waves.
There’s much to be said for loving companions,
And friendships that don’t let you down,
For, when at the abyss, you seem truly alone,
Within you their strength can be found.
Oh, if only small I, like a caped crusader,
Could into your lonely wanderings fly,
I’d steal you away like a pirating raider,
From the valley's dead ends, to a mountaintop high,
To survey the paths and the rapids below(that viewed from on high, move placidly slow).
And mapping an end to your aimless roam,
Of your own accord, you’d find your way home.
You can live in a place, or with someone,
For years, and still never be home.
Whether you are a rambling hobo,
Or a hermit – never to roam,
No bridges or crossroads or pathways
Can get you to there from here,
Because no outside road will lead you,
To that longed-for home, so dear.
Home isn't just where your heart is,Or a hug, a smile or kiss,
It's finding deep love within You,
That leads to the ultimate bliss.
Because there, anywhere,
That is Home.
******************
Alice Potteiger - December, 2007
