Seven Miles from Home
As this evening dims,
cherry blossoms swirl into drifts roadside
and blow pink flakes on my windshield.
A voice hidden between thoughts
murmurs of Him veiled, of those
ancient two walking on a pebbled road
who failed to know the stranger
as they dried their eyes.
He spoke of Sinai and “I did not come to destroy
but to fulfill”1 but His words barely pierced
their plugged ears and scaly eyes. Later, at table,
their hearts stood still: after He blessed bread,
their eyes unscaled. He vanished in a blink.
Driving on that road nearing dusk
as shades and shadows shroud this evening,
His words “slow of heart to believe”2 pierce deep—
as they did to them.
1Mt. 5:17, 2Lk. 24:25