Seventy Years

Seventy?

Tears pool, brim and flow onto hands that grasped liquid sweet moments.

Memories frozen into brilliant waterfall within.

Towards my soul’s canyon, your light pours in, revealing precious faces, kind eyes, little hands briefly held.

Traveling through childhood’s mist, middle life forest to foggy old age to reveal a distant eternal land.

With tears. Just seventy years?

 

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and i am

you tell of times as we drink red wine

together,

i remember, holding in the years, flowing out tears.

i ask what i fear, why you have me near?

you answer with names, friends now with you.

Mary Magdalene, prostitute, friend, free.

Simon Peter, radical, political, freedom fighter, friend, free.

Zacchaeus, tax collector, thief, social reject, friend, free.

then among your friends, names, common brokenness, you name me.

and i am friend, free.

 

life ablaze

Sitting together, life ablaze with memory, grey wrinkled man, curled up blanketed child.  Familiar deep voice speaks, story, gently retold, of young years, bicycling, town to mountain paths, hiking, up and up, green lands, soft pastures, rocky cliffs, trickling streams, flow. Up high, peering below, nestled valley town, seeing a possible future.  Yet across the valley another mountain town, a train slowly passing, arriving, finding new friends, departing, leaving dear friends.  I walk, live, many years away, return to this beauty, together, now with you, child, and generations to come, to tell you of how I went and returned.