The Art of Longing
Those of us who have driven
the long cold road alone
have watched the thin line
of trees, frosted white,
slipping behind
like memories.
We know the pull
of something unseen
beyond the reach of dry eyes,
fixed, blinking
at the distant mist.
We ride the road
with our lonely ghosts,
unwavering in their devotion
like penitents at the altar
of our grief.
This is how we perfect
the art of longing,
learn to nurse the hurt,
refuse the fullness
of this world.
For now, we keep driving,
lean into the dimming light,
lean further toward
winter’s receding horizon,
and away from arrival.
— Robert A. Neimeyer
To purchase Dr. Neimeyer’s books of poetry or find out more about his work, visit http://web.mac.com/neimeyer .
Tags: grief, hope
