Poem: There Was Smoke

There Was Smoke

and it may have been mystical
but it seemed to be heavy
and dark and smelled 
of moist earth.  It filled me
and I was not glad,
was not lifted, but sunk,
was too heavy,
my belly became 
only a weight to carry
and I was placed aside
where I could slumber,
and maybe there were dreams:
I know where I slept
was not in the place
that was kept,
in those days, for me,
but in one reserved for another,
for one whose steps marked the path,
who I had followed and trusted,
and thought would be a guide.
He was not there,
it was only a place to rest.
Perhaps that was the lesson,
perhaps it would be better
if that had been considered
the lesson to be learned
all those years ago.

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