How could this road talk of the travels it has seen? Weary souls coming and going with hopes of sustentation.
Indigenous families, hunting, caring for the land and its treasures. This sacred ground, rick black soil, life-giving water flowing past.
Children’s feet, running and playing hide and seek amongst the hills and banks.
Paying homage to the souls who once traversed this farmland, the marrow of indigenous cells surrounding this holy patch of land.
Ancestors harrowing the ground, building and laying the seeds for their destiny.
Horses traveling to and fro, plowing, tending the land for riches and growth.
How many have traversed this road in joyous and tumultuous times? Times of death, birth, the imminent cycles of the living. How these lives enriched the spirit of this place.
I travel this road. I marvel at the mystery and wonder of the trees surrounding this path, the spirits of all who have passed.
This road beckons to me, carrying me to my front door, to the trees echoing the voices of lives gone past.
It will always bring me home.
Beautiful words for a beautiful connection with the earth and the place and the journey.