Going Home

By Ronda Miller

Grave sites scatter

Either side of the dusty gravel road

Like a child’s long forgotten marbles.

A long time ago

bitter, blinding tears

Watered these sites daily,

Caregiver to grass, trees, headstones.

Present Memorial Days produce less tears,

A hasty pulling of weeds.

A different life

Acknowledges time

Going by much too quickly

Not unlike the tumble weed

Blown across the steady

Incline of I-70.

The foot that pressed

Lightly, nimbly

On the gas pedal

All the way west

As close to the Colorado

And Nebraska borders

As you can get

Now proceeds slowly,

Age and pain taking their toll.

Silent tears fall

As the car heads the other direction

Going east now through

Waving, russet colored wheat fields

Leaving the high plains and heading to Lawrence.

The remaining burial sites

Too soon calling me back,

Filling again with familiar faces

Of the ones I love.

– Ronda Miller lives in Lawrence.