A Little Late
The moon is up a little late this night, it knows I am to come.
It waits for me.
How could that be; I am not of breath.
Others waited patiently; they also knew.
Roads were widened; their footprint engraved in the earth.
Learning the way as each breathe strengthen me for the days ahead.
Many lessons are to be learned, burdens I am to carry.
Their secrets are in the wind, gently guiding,
knowing that their hands are in the mist.
The path I am to follow, I pull strength from each step.
The waves come; they clap upon the fertile ground.
The past comes to light.
Seeing all which were seen, I get carried away.
Fear settles upon my face, my knees weaken, yet the ground escapes me.
Lifted up, I am never without hope, as I hear them without voices.
The moon is up a little late this night. it knows I am to come.
Catherine Johnson Broussard
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