HIGHWAY OF TEARS

HIGHWAY OF TEARS

they walked this highway to no end
up North, a place buses neglect
hitching rides with their fears
where the beast preys on the desperate

the dark clouds covered them in mystery
with the falling rain waiting
as angels weep for the brave
and the beast preys for the desperate

this endless highway of tears
standing at the edge of somewhere
should be leading  towards the light
towards a saviour without a dead end
as  the falling rain drowns the beast


             this photo by  Steven Kelly reminded me of HIGHWAY 16 in Northern  British Columbia
             ...known  as the Highway of Tears...since 1974, 20 or more young women or girls have either
             been murdered or gone missing along this highway.....MOSTLY aboriginal.  This has been
             horrible...and for the most part police and authorities just didn't care....anyways this is the
             poem I wrote....as many of us have cared and still care.

SILENCE

                                                                       
                                                                   original painting by Wayne
                                         
beside the timeless moment of silence
I saw eternity.  I saw the abode of angels.
nothing was happening.  the events of
a billion years ago were just as ghostly and
ungraspable as this moment or a billion
years from now, or the moments of the next four
minutes.  perfectly imperfect emptiness
of silver solitude....there were no questions
of not being alive or being alive, of dislikes or
likes, of taste or no taste, of not hearing or hearing,
of not far or far, of not seeing or seeing, of giving
or not giving without judgements.

beside the timeless moment of silence
I saw clarity with confusion.  the house of roses
standing in the wind.  the events of
tomorrow will change just as phantom and
ungraspable as this moment or a billion
years from now, or the moments of the past four
minutes.  refreshingly cool, empty from the silver
filled with solitude....there were no questions
of here or there, of up and
down, of believing or not believing,
with the sun on my eyelids telling me
where I came from and where I was returning.