The Journey Home

The silence

burrows deep into

my skin,

soaking right through

to my veins.

—

The air is

tight,

anxious,

as if it fears

the coming

storm.

—

The highway

stretches out

before me.

A painted sunset

reflects its light

on wet

pavement,

casting a blood-red

sheen.

—

My mind feels

muddy,

thick,

as I contemplate

the road

before me.

—

The sunset fades

and a fingernail

moon,

almost dark,

begins its

ascent.

—

I pick up my

soul

from the highway’s

shoulder,

tucking it

deep inside

where no one

can find it–

the journey home

is never

safe.

7-4-19