I knew the Scar--
Blood red,
Black fringed,
A visual suffering,
Inflamed;
Burnt raw again
In Eighty-eight;
Gaping,
High and wide
With no concealment
Of the violence
Of thrust
That birthed
Its amorphous
Lingering rawness.

And the close road,
The present nearness,
With its dust,
Its own roughness
Ruts and rocks,
Sudden turns,
Unexpected twists,
Unguarded ledges
And downward thrusts;
Made passage
A course of
Watchful avoidance,
And retention,
A ritual of caution.

Only happen-chance,
Practiced orientation,
And the clear light
Of morning
Allowed the Vision:
The uncontested truthfulness
Of its proximity
Well within view,
Clear in detail,
Neither foreign
Nor distant,
Backward,
But not beyond--
The honest Eastern Edge
Of this reality.

09/04/2002

Author's Note: An allegorical view of the eastern horizon from the road between Lake of the Woods and Grassy Lake Road, Wyoming.

Posted on 09/04/2002
Copyright © 2025 Leonard M Hawkes