by Marc Gunn, June 24, 2006

Once again, I walk down that dusty road.
The cloudy canopy casts silhouettes
On the olive grove I called home.
I stumble along that same path
Again and again.

There are no taunting Ladders
That visibly give me reason to hope.
There is only the road,
Growing ever more tired and bled of life
From the same weary feet
treading
The same weary path.

Why
do I allow myself to follow the same journey
Day after day?
I prayed at the first thirteen stations,
But walked home before the end.

Now a Turtle-Dove drifts carelessly
Above me.
She coos with humble dissatisfaction
At my being so far from home.

She's filled with doubt
About the solemnity of the future.
I don't blame her.

But I chose this path.

And I love my grove.

But the Wisdom of my insecurity
And the coarseness of the rocks beneath my feet
Cast doubt on my reason for walking.

I'm left wandering
… and wondering
If the seeds I fed the Turtle-Dove
Brought color to her wings
Or were they just stones
That will cause her to fall
Like Icarus

To lie as carrion at my feet.

The road is long.
The clouds are dense.
My olive grove disappears in the mist.