by Terrah Hancock

Created on: July 09, 2010

The Journey

Stepping to minimize the heat scorching my bare soles

I make my way to a small patch of wet, sticky grass

Of the deepest green at the far side of this parking lot.

Salty, sweaty gusts give flight to the paper thin fabric that veils my skin.

Soothing my pain the grass quickly thickens;

Oppressive and constricting it seems to swarm my bare feet.  

A few slurpy steps in the stickiness, 

One lurching prance over a patch of mud,

I am surrounded by towering Hibiscus alive with cherry colored blooms.  

Leggy branches reach for my gauzy white linen over-shirt

and scratch my hips.

Freed of the voyeur limbs who aspired to disrobe me 

My delicately intended leap lands me heavily into carroty mud.

My feet are tempted to yield and meld into the muddy earth;

Each step is purposeful not to stay too long, for fear of being captured.

Emaciated is the path I plod onto, long strides taking over.

Chain-link fencing on my left rusting and sad 

snags the wispy cloth that covers me.

To my right an unnaturally green screen rescues the rouge 

tennis balls of transient residents.

Surging out of the confined path I am welcomed into magnificence.

Preparing myself not to linger in wonderment at the edge of the world,

I force my eyes to only scan the panoramic battle between blues and greens.

I nearly ignore myself and consider abandoning my beloved to stand 

motionless in a gawking stupor all of the day.

Long ago recognizable handrails come into view; my step quickens.

Rust covered, disintegrating metal guides me to crumbled cement steps.

Irregularly proportioned and requiring deft footwork, I easily acquiesce.

Seven span steepness that should be comprised of twenty.

Last step, end of civilization.

Skillfully tied to the teetering rail is a tightly rolled taught 

bed-sheet of anemic color.

As my feet settle they recall the needy clay; my step lightens.

The purposeful sheet mentors me in the right direction.

Squarely knotted to an age-old tree branch I reach it’s end.

Sheet morphs into rope, who escorts me downward

while shadows play and dance, challenging shadiness that looms.

As chills race up my spine; my skin counters with goose bumps.

Long sleeves of wool would be ineffective to warm chills of fear.

My sleeves like wrinkled tissue are useless.

Green abruptly triumphs; refusing entrance to blue particles.

Concealed against blue, the earth is moisture-less.

My toes acknowledge the change; my body loosens.

Anticipating climax my feet surge forward, eager to devour the cherished. 

Intent on reaching the end they increase speed.

I urge them to slow, command them to obey

I want to finish slowly, leisurely, without yearning to end.

Brightness gleams ahead at the end of the shadowy tunnel

I stifle the urge to run and collapse at the entryway to glory.

My approach is disregarded as insignificant by my memory.

Arriving is all that remains.  

It is my only ambition.

As the beams embrace me, the shadows recede

I relinquish control and am taken

to the place that I long for.

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