This barren, dusty road is sweeping
my feet out from under my knees now.
Carrying what was formerly stagnant
and rushing it into a pace unknown.
Leaving a head disheveled and crazed.

As I happen along this byway to whence,
I meet upon the sward outlining the path,
a man selling rainwater in swollen oak jugs.
He tips a feathered velvet hat over his eyes.
He stammers, "There's nothing down that road."

I pause and gaze into his gnarled visage,
as he levelly meets my gaze with glittering eyes.
He continues, "Nothin' down that way but thirst."
I wonder at his words for the jugs of liquid
lining his fence sparkle in azure sunlight.

I enquire, "But Sir, how can thirst be
a destination to which I can travel?"
He merely stoops and plucks a pinch
of dust from the road, casting it
with a deft movement into the breeze.

"The same way that love can be a goal,
and greed can be your absolution," He says.
"I walked that road for years searching.
Searching for a way to quench and satiate
the thirst of my heart and soul."

I stand kicking at the gravel on the road,
caught at an impasse between fighting on
or staying my course and quenching my thirst
here on the sward with this crooked old man.
I ask, "What were you thirsting for?"

He closes his eyes and sniffs at the dry air.
"I was thirsting for a place where I matter;
a place where I make a difference some how.
And now I sit here on the side of this road
with water aplenty and try to quench others"

"You are burning inside with the thirst
for something. Maybe it's a thirst to belong;
Maybe to be loved? Whatever it is, It's lost
if you walk down that road. That road has naught
to offer one such as you," He states.

I am now quite torn between continuing on
or turning back. For the old man's words take
hold of a part of my mind that has some doubt
as to whether this journey will benefit me
or wither me into a shell of desire.

"How can I go about quenching my thirst?"
I slowly and deliberately ask him.
He takes his time and equally slowly replies,
"By turning your back on this road now.
And placing your foot in every footprint you left."

"You will find that everything that you desired,
that you searched for is locked there in every
step you took away from something. It's there
in everything you’re leaving behind, In every word
you avoided saying. It's in there somewhere."

And upon hearing this, I turn to leave back
the way I had come. But the old man places
his hand on my shoulder and hands me an oaken jug
of water. I look quizzically at him.” To give you
a head start," He says,” It’s a thirsty road"

03/03/2004

Posted on 03/03/2004
Copyright © 2024 J. P. Davies