So far from home. The journey seems endless, and I’ve never felt so weary. I look down the road and see only endless trees and the trail’s intensity seems to blur with emptiness, and insignificance.
The rage of life tears at the edges of my emotions. So much to take in stride, the good with the bad. My load seems weighty. Must I carry it alone? When will I feel you? When will I know that it matters? Your voice seems so distant to me.
Dawn has come. It’s time to pick up my pack again. It’s awkward and not designed for my shoulders. I ache to see the sun. I’m late. There’s not enough of me to go around. Incessant demands from every corner of my world. My disillusionment leaves me without focus, fumbling through the day.
Had you forgotten that I want to hear your voice? I want to know what you think. That is, if you want to tell me. Say anything. Really. I won’t leave. I’ll stay, no matter how much it hurts. Your words, your thoughts make me feel like I’m alive. They make me feel like there’s a purpose to my path, these endless steps that I take.
You are my True North. Don’t you know?
There’s so much noise, this clanging silence. No single tune to whistle while I work. And then I feel your presence. I hear something that resembles your voice, as if across a crowded room I hear you speaking to another. Why them and not me? Why won’t you speak to me? We could stop for a moment, put our packs down. It would be easier if I carry some of yours, and perhaps you’ll carry some of mine. It would be good that way. Part of me wants to forge ahead. And yet, something within me pauses. The timbre of your voice comforts me. Still the road ahead is endless, but it is enough knowing you are near.