On the 8th Anniversary of 9/11, I Recalled My Most Peaceful Place

I glanced up in the heat of the day
like I did every day
and worked even more earnestly
so that certainly the time would
pass by faster.

Later my awaited moment came . . .
I was FREE and I ran
down the dirt slope to the river
never bothering to take off my dusty sandals
as I stepped carefully into the same freezing water
where my great-grandfather once drove cattle . . .

. . . and then we danced--the water and I--it was
so cold on my bare toes that I jumped and splashed, jumped and splashed . . .
meanwhile, the sun played tricks on my partner as it swirled
in tiny, shallow rapids
around the rocks in its way.

Now the sun was beginning to set--nothing new yet
ever exquisitely unique.
Surrounded by the hills my senses were keyed into nature.
I heard only the wind singing gently behind me and
I saw only the sun up ahead sliding
lower
slower
taking its time . . .

. . . the daystar, like a paintbrush, watercolored the sky with a mass of
purple pink orange and red encircling the glowing orb.
My heart soared as I climbed the mountain path,
for I thought I saw his form etched against the horizon;
though my body ached from the day's work,
his coming urged me to the top where I
dropped
in a tired heap
letting the gentle breeze ruffle my hair and caress my bones.

I turned over, resting my weary head on my arms, just in time to watch the sun
fall away in one last blaze of glory.
I let out a sigh of awe and appreciation for this marvel,
just as the night sounds began echoing through the valley . . .

I was lulled to sleep under a sky of countless stars
whose light sent a secure warmth washing over me.
I recognized the feeling like the well-worn paths.
I was not alone . . .

*Written a few months after I met Jesus as more than a historical figure

Elaine Everett Copyright 1972