Streets, Roads, and Quiet Paths (Poem for an Easter Sunday)

I.


Streets

All streets provide answers. Mostly about
themselves: slippery when wet, sharp curve
ahead, fallen rocks, under construction, traffic
merge to my left, not a through way, dead end…

Some share their life stories in signs of aging:
adjacent badly cracked sidewalks, neglectfully
carpeted with weeds, detached from broken steps
and missing steps that are too old and in disrepair
to reach the decaying mansions that sits boarded-up
and as lonely as the apartment buildings that sit across from them,
and are vacant of the chatter of friendly neighbors,
leaning out their windows, sharing jokes with others sitting on the stoops,
while the children run around and play.
Rust covered steel and paper mills in the distance tell
the story of what once was ― before all became covered in overgrown weeds.

The affluent streets flaunt their wealth by adorning themselves
with fancy traffic lights, big bold signs with their names on them.
The really cool and sophisticated streets, like those that live in the presence
of colleges and universities, attach themselves to sidewalks cafés
with five-star restaurants, and impressive stores
with boastful names ―Tiffany’s, Starbuck, Rolex…

II.


Roads

Roads are the signature of the folks in the neighborhood:
They’re the landscaped postcard that all the neighbors signed,
using their best cursive penmanship, displaying
wonderful loops and curves in the uniqueness of their
writing styles.

Roads carry the names of the folks who adopted them
― the ones who spent a lifetime living on them, and know
the entire history about them.

Roads are always dressed casual in outdoor clothing.
They know it’s the only way to dress to accommodate
the tractors, trailers and other farm equipment that travel on them.
And they always seem to be the happiest in spring and summer,
when the corn, wheat, soybean . . . are growing next to them, as
horses, cows, pigs, sheep, goats . . . graze, eat, and play beside them. And
spruced-up farms ― each with its distinctive house, barn, and silos
― sits quietly, happily, and in harmony with them.

III.


Quiet Paths

Paths, especially those in the woods, are the stroll ways
where Heaven is inseparable from Earth. They are gifts
from the animals, who knew that human beings needed
a place for contemplation and meditation, so they created them.
They designed these quiet places where we can learn to hear
the clear messages that come from the unspoken
― the universe most important responses
to our riddles and questions, spoken in dialects outside. our own tongue.

It is here, on paths, that the journey in our mind becomes
one with the physical journey through the woods, as everything external
becomes our internal, and everything external invites us in
as we become one with the universe.

Deep contemplation in tranquility takes us further on the journey that brings us closer to “Awe!” when we travel on


quiet paths!