{CROSSWAYSNET}

The straightest of Mississippi roads meander
Traced out by one with more time than direction
Lined with turkey and dogwood
They were the rivers of my youth

From high springs in Tennessee I followed the flow
Down to the flats and hollers below
And collected myself at the bottom
Through fog to a deep pool of grace

That well flowed with coffee and cake and laughter
Tuned itself to the strum of prayer and a song
And late into the thrumming cicada nights
We kept the lamp burning and took our long walks

We soaked ourselves in others
While the rains soaked our skins
And steamed off our clothes
Evaporating worries and sins

I traveled that river again this week
To bid my farewell to an Anchor
I felt like Huck without his Jim
A castaway cast away

I found the scar below the bridge
Falling away to my left
And by the Waters of Babylon
I wept, remembering thee

I dropped from the clouds in a hopeful dread
And marked the early crocus and redbud
I passed through my fog and found
The well I so long, so longed for

The well flowed with tears this time
Tasting of shock’s wordless words
Pouring from friends I know and once knew
Rising from the ocean of a fruitful life

And from a silent awe came the sound
Of quiet words: peace, peace and more peace
How can Joy be planted and barren of fruit?
This seed cracks in my pain, to begin growing in me