I am thinking of my friend today who is probably feeling like a weary traveler. I wanted to share this poem that I wrote several years back. Friend, there is hope and the destination is absolutely worth the trials. May God’s peace, hope and healing surround you and comfort you.
I am the weary traveler who has traveled the winding road to nowhere longer than time has known a name. Once an eager adventurer sure to find everything dreamed of and quite sure that no one had ever wanted it more or was more likely to find it than I.
I am the broken and beaten; head blurry from falls unnumbered and beatings too brutal to recount. So many times I have begun again convinced that determination was the means to the goal.
My name once was Hopeful; hopeful for peace and power and magical vision. I drew strength from a spring that had no end and ran swifter than the stag. Hour upon hour I charted my course and exuberantly sang the praises of my journey.
I am the one in whom all hope has vanished…yet it remains somehow in the recesses of my heart. Hope; unreasonable hope to begin again and somehow journey to the new, the hoped for, the giver of hope.
I am the pursuer of hope because without it breath is stale and blood stands still. I am the one who believes the journey refines and gold weeps to be released from the slag.
I am the dreamer who must dream, must hope, and must journey, for the destination is too precious…
nanc April 3.2005