Waiting and Whispering

It was a long way to walk from there to here,

and driving didn't make much of a difference.

All my best laid plans ended up in a wreck,

and this interruption was never my preference.

I've lived...here...with the shadows of men once real

and seen the real within the shadows,

drilling and pumping for the deeper water

and the stuff of life that matters.

I’ve seen a shepherd talk out of both sides of his mouth,
and the only thing he’s feeding me is the dross
of a truth that shines just beyond his reach,
and while he’s talking, I’m wondering if he’s the one that’s lost.

And in the space between, in the pause of this uninvited intrusion,

I am listening. Pressing my ear to the ground, to the tree, to the water;

"What am I doing here?" I whisper with them all,

praying my question is answered before the leaves start to fall.