Safe journey, Dear One

Kevin Mueller

From December: I found this poem in a queue to be published. It's been waiting in limbo for a long time. I worked it over a bit and have now released it.

From April: This poem came (sort of) from the prompt, The Poem as Prayer, (April 1st on the Poetry Foundation Poetry Prompts +18) And from meditating on the recent death of the best Auntie a guy could ever have, which reminded me of sitting next to my father's body the morning after he died. I spoke to him, feeling some small presence in the room, though I could also feel the was door open and the journey had begun.


Safe journey, Dear One
-- to Aunt Nedra, who used to address us all, Dear Ones, and to the memory of my Dad.

This day has not yet dawned
and the fog lies low to the ground,
yet I can see where the sun will rise and when:
nearer to the north now, your home, moving toward that tree
with the spreading branches on the horizon
that means no-foolin’ spring. The cardinal
calls for a mate and the barred owl, too. Up the road,
turkeys reach out to each other with hope and lust.

But this day you must leave. 

I know this.

Your body is cold; it will not warm to the dawn.
I can feel your too-quiet restlessness. 
It seems odd to wonder now: Will you be safe?
Please stay a little longer. Speak with me. Tell me
another story. Remind me of how you lived
so I may hold it like a child to my chest.
May I keep you here a little longer? I see 

you have tied your shoes and you stand by the door. 

Safe journey, Dear One. 

Safe journey into this still day.


--steve peterson