There is a road
On the south side of this wilderness
And light falls through the trees
And settles upon it
In pools of burnt gold
Crossed by shadows
At the far end
You can see that pure light
An eternal brightness and comfort
I stand now and gaze
Toward that far end
Of this old, old road
My grandfather who preached
A pure gospel long ago
And was ridiculed for it
And his wife
My quilt stitched by her arthritic hands
Her stories drifting back from my childhood
Stands next to him
In summer blaze
Or winter’s hard and unforgiving cold
My father and I worked together, building
He smiles down at my mother
Who rarely spoke an unkind word
Against anyone she ever knew
Their smiles are as pure as that eternal light
As they turn toward me
My soul longs for them
But my granddaughter’s laughter
Is a silver cord, pulling me
And there is work to be done
That day has not yet come
For me