Going My Way?
A magenta mind slowly opened its eyes. Into a faint morning, a mist gathered legs, and left its moon fully compromised.
Far from her pillow, the car sped in shadows of street lights, and her damp grey feelings, stood like deer, in lost headlights.
Her thoughts flew in whispers of what the day would bring. It was a fast and furious journey to find the best in everything.
Brew in a paper cup, a highway spun in lost and found dismay, her thoughts rambled into miles, and time, it tried to get away.
The clouds sprayed against the windows, the wipers in a rhythm of calm against its storm. The air was humid, drawings impressionistic, colors bleeding hard, memories so warm.
The radio off, a hum of illusion singing at the top of its lungs, sipping pumpkin spice latte, she carefully peeled away the old floral wallpaper her heart had hung.
The world is all a gamble, changing lanes, yielding to blind spots, within the next few miles she should exit, her navigational system dreaming of places that true love sought.
Mindful of her quest’s nature, she tuned all directions out, and let her passions take the wheel, to find what life was all about.
Her coffee tasted of autumn, and the road became her game, it was a dream for living, for more than wealth and fame.
It was in those last few miles, when the moon caught sight of a tall, thin form, in billowing waves of wandering calm, a man appeared tattered and torn.
His hair was wild and wooly and his shirt of cotton candy pink. He wore bell bottom jeans with holes and carried a cane, a vision quite distinct.
It was so mysterious, this black man, darl as night, she barely could see him as he pressed through clouds of morning light.
His eyes were soft and caring, and he limped along the wrong side of the road. She recognized his heart and the peace his presence did behold.
The road was long and narrow, and the signs all disappeared. She stopped along the shoulder and invited him to rest in her fear.
He opened the back door, the car lights came on, this black man with a cane passed through her, but not for long.
She started up the engine, the morning stars flew into sight. She looked into the rear view mirror and found what she had been praying for with all her might.
There in the comfort of her old worn car, was no stranger, it was Jesus, his long rugged hands and bare feet held scars.
He asked where she was going this beautiful new day. She told him she was on her way to work, it was not far away.
He gave her a smile that lit up like the first day in spring. She had always hoped for such an encounter, for a back seat driver that would know everything.
He told her to relax, to take her hands from the wheel. This was the morning that she found how love was really real.
He had a sense of humor, he changed from black to white. He carried all her burdens and unlocked her magenta mind with eyes pressed tight.
She awoke with a song, with a chance to begin again. You see, this is the beauty of making Jesus your friend.
She has a bumper sticker, it is simple and pure. “Jesus walks the highways, he rests in all our fears.”
Kathy Paysen 2013