Driving Down Digby Neck on a Winter Night

Dirt road frozen

to washboard waves,

hardened to ridges

and solid ripples

that the car reads

like a page of Braille.

 

On the CD player

Charlie Patton’s

grainy raspy

growl emerges

from a snowstorm

of scratches. God,

 

How can this life

be made so hard?

How can suffering

be made so beautiful?

 

Is this only

the rough surface

of events, or

are they the waves,

breaking the sea,

waves, feather-white

on the Infinite

Sea of Compassion?

 

 

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