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