Midnight Highways

The road is long
and blurs as the night goes on,
as the landscape fades into night
and the cars and lives
fade into spots of light.

After twelve hours,
it’s all something of a blur,
a day’s memories have played
though your mind
like an old movie, silent

and lacking in color,
the speed and place all wrong,
a comic tragedy of memory
streaming through your heart.

There are tears
for the wrong turns,
for love lost,
for the sheer weight of loss
and the dancing not done.

And there are smiles,
for unexpected gifts of joy
and tenderness, for
passionate moments unbridled
by sense or practicality,
for beauty in the oddest places,
strange and mad with colors.

And there are memories
of other journeys,
alone and in the company of others,
even others who are no longer
yet fill your mind and heart
mile, after mile,
after mile.

About this poem.

I drove my daughter back to school yesterday. Because I was preaching, I didn’t get off till late. I am pretty sure the entire north-south interstate system between Albany and DC was one giant traffic jam as we spent most of it in the sub-30 MPH range. A long trip.

And with a long trip, lots of thought. Lots of thought.

Tom