The Journey Poem by Ben Gieske

i drive to its height
unbuckle my seat belt
walk to the edge and
choose a comfy pose
leaning back to let the sun
feed my face with
worshipful warmth
of a titanic vistarama
valley view

i sit as if stung
by a wasp with starry eyes
at nature’s brute reality ––
the multitude of so many ––
gather as one ––
one colossal convergence
of creatured things ––
each different yet each
with its own identity
adumbrations surfaced to this
globe of earth
hurling through the universal
magazines of stars and galaxies

here – on this pinnacle
I see, open-eyed
unable to swallow and digest
the whole truth of
such spilt-over reality

an isle of loneliness blankets me

do i see the trees waving
their greetings to each other
and to me?

so many gathered as one ––
and I –– drenched ––
with awareness of this sight
dumbed down with adulation
of color, light, and naked reality ––
blown adrift in a lonely trinity of
me, myself and i
bereft of all creativity ––
on this edge of oceanic unknowns
not yet ordained to unveil
this sacramental sanctuary

with whom to share?
does someone beckon me?

did the Cherokee and Shawnee gaze
in wonderment pose with naked eye
camera-cornea capturing
this cathedral in the
confines of their memory
transfigured in native lore
in their steepled teepees
around their heart-warmed hearths of families

i follow the stream meandering
longingly fleeing the roaming isle
of loneliness buffeted here and
there from east to west
and west to east rushing onward
southward thirsting for companionship
in those blue waters of global fellowship

i trace the train tracks on the distant left
and wake to a lonely wolf’s whistle
as miles of coal-filled cars pass
filled to the brim, jolted and bumped
from side to side spilling chunks
of coal on the tracks below ––
orphans along the way

above the tracks I glimpse telephone lines
dangling from pole to pole with
crisscrossing messages brushing each other ––
flowing rivers of kinetic energy
tingling with warm-felt sensitivity
signs and symbols to be heard
and understood in voices
escaping the isles of loneliness

jolted by the outrage
of a blue jay bird
protesting the presence
of this idol figure
i rise and with
a lost shutter-click
of this mystic-colored window
confirmed to be redeemed
from this isle of loneliness
clinging to me

i buckle my safety belt
look into the mirrored
confession of this trinity
shift into gear and
begin my pilgrimage

to find that someone to help erect
a temple of love and sharing
and warm hearts around the hearth