The Arrival

When I look back, I see

a long winding road

littered with cracks,

empty backpacks,

loose gravel, skid marks,

broken hearts, stop signs,

speed bumps, timeless

art, hitchhikers, bikers,

dirty diapers, beer bottles,

diplomas, blood-stained

pavement, blooming buds,

tire tracks in the mud,

worn out shoes, ripped

clothes, potholes, wandering

souls, mile markers, road kill,

love letters, knitted sweaters,

flat tires, dumpster fires,

police sirens, and a setting sun.

The road that led me here

filled me with fear, but I

didn’t stop moving. Pain

and all, I always got back

up after the fall. Scratched,

bloodied and bruised, I knew

I had everything to lose. I look

back and sigh. I may have

slowed down, but I always took

another step. I still have some

gas in the tank left. I’ve reached

a stopping point, but this is not

my final destination. There is

more to see and air to breathe.