A Homing Device For the year 2020
The mist is heavy, and thickening.
There is noise in the distance, a tangle of murmuring, a cacophony of voices;
Strange creatures of the night with shining eyes, and a pit of mud alongside where we stand. This wilderness has no clear paths worn by others come before us.
and there are plants I’ve never seen before.
I'm desperate to be found, and rescued. Maybe I have lost my map; our phone is dead. We don’t know our way home. Will someone come? Will someone save us from these woods? Will someone show the way?
You say, “We can find it.”
You say there is a dream within this nightmare.
You say, “Just listen. Put one foot before the other. We can find it.
Put one foot in front of the other and we’re on our way to the land that is promised. Put one foot in front of the other and we are walking into the dream within the nightmare.”
You won’t let me wail. You put one hand on my shoulder like a guardian angel. I don’t know. Maybe you are that, a guardian angel.
“Most animals have a built in homing device,” you say. “We do know where we belong. We just have to dream up the directions.”
I put my hand in my pocket. Something glitters through my fingers. “What’s that?” I ask.
“Oh that,” you answer, “That’s hope. Come along now. We’re late.”
© Linda Beatrice Brown