On the Road:
Luke 24
After the great blow, we fled,
seeking refuge in betweenness,
uneasy in the cities, happy
only on the road, where life’s
sliced thin enough to bear.
Wrapped in anonymity we could
obliterate that story, the one
that ended badly, whose end
eviscerated its beginnings. We
could go back, unweave it strand
by strand, so the pain
of each separate strand could be borne.
But then the stranger interposed
himself, dragged the story out
of us, rewove its separate
threads to some more glorious end
and then then excused himself
to make a phone call and was never
seen again, and we sat stunned
and then went out and read that story
in the stars and agreed
all roads lead home.