Future’s Fortune

Napowrimo – day 10

Once a year he passes
fields of people looking
for an ancient future,
a place to land his history
and move on. His hot
breath hits the dust
on the green crossroad.
It is seldom green.
She knows he is coming,
he comes every year.
She knows every step that
brought him here, and every
step he takes to death. No,
she would never speak of that.
The cold calling from the grave
breathing on his neck. She reads
his heart. Tells of loves and
the lives he will live. She
knows the kind of man he is
with wounds and scars and
doubts and fears. She tells him
what he needs to hear. His doubt
dissolves, he takes the future
in his hands. This year she
doesn’t take his coin, she cannot
sell a lie. Instead invites him to
sit by her fire, one last time.

Lisa Goodwin – April 2014


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