Nowhere

One of my early poems that was included in my unpublished collection Strange Particles (2012)

Nowhere

Without prior consciousness,

without warning,

I am flung

onto an unknown, narrow road

that resembles a pitch black tunnel

flanked by dense forest on each side--

inundated with water

that the quagmire clay

has tinted a yellow hue.

For me, a womb of liquidity,

but for some,

a place of dust and ashes

from which there is no return.

I turn the corner to

where the road

suddenly gives way

to wide, cloud-fluffy blue skies

bathed in the bright white light

of the sun.

Down in the valley lies

a quaint community

vibrant with the diversity of life,

and surrounded on all sides

by cow fields and cornstalks--

a birth.

I walk on.

Before long,

I pass an old man,

somehow vaguely familiar to me

(although I've never passed this way before).

Straw hat on head,

red-stripéd shirt

and suspenders caught

in the act of suspension;

reminiscent of the barber shop and circus.

In his hand:

a group of bright, colorful balloons

on strings--

he sings and waves

with a wide smile,

content as all the while

small children

play around him;

a reflection of his former self,

himself a mirror of their future selves.

As I walk in

and the old man walks out,

I turn my head to the old man's shout,

straining my ears to narrow the

Ginnunga Gap between us,

my ears and his faint voice

finally make a connection.

I hear him say:

"Excuse me, kid,

if I seem rather absurd,

but I do believe

you are headed in the wrong direction."

With an indifferent shrug,

I turn

and continue on my way--

but somehow knowing

that I will meet my agéd friend

back there on the road again,

again, someday;

as he I hope to be

just as sprite,

just as gay.