A Sequoia in My Wrist
Looking back the years disappear in the distance
For the road behind is quite long and winding.
While up ahead the road feels shorter
And straighter than it is, I suppose,
And a big sign reads "No Exit."
Being in a big hurry for no reason seems silly now
And the passing trees and fields, cities and streets,
Playgrounds and cemeteries appear richer, more real
Than I am used to.
My wife's green eyes seem deeper now,
And more mysterious to me; and her touch is a gift,
And her friendly voice at night is a welcomed sound
To my ears that have heard stories of so much pain.
It's down hill I'm told on this side of life,
Yet I choose to find a few more mountains to climb,
Some strange wilderness to explore,
Some undiscovered clearing deep in the woods
Where we can sit and remember, talk, laugh and cry.
And drink cold water.
The hectic rush of generations goes on, of course,
And our minds are trained for habits of hurry.
Yet, thank God, our faithful bodies now say "No" to speed.
We enjoy the simplicity of just sitting together in quiet.
Free things seem so intensely valuable--
Like the hummingbirds warring for the feeder,
Like sounds of water trickling over rocks,
Like mourning doves reminding us that
So many in the world are very, very lonely.
Jesus didn't live to be my age
And I'm deeply sorry for that.
He lived urgently, freely, on the run.
If he had one, I think he would have
Looked at his Seiko too frequently.
I take my watch off now as a discipline.
Why wear around an invention on your wrist
To remind you that you are dying?
That the road ahead is shorter?
I'd like to plant a sequoia in my wrist
And watch it grow over the years to come,
But, unfortunately, I'm not made for it.
The road ahead now does not matter as much.
What matters is my best friend's voice.