The White Road
As I walked down Eastern Parkway on a snowy day,
Time seemed to stop, but no, it kept going its deceptive pace, slow then fast.
I felt neither lost nor oriented as I watched a soul far ahead.
My steps were hasty as I came along the white road,
And I looked forward to see that soul. so small and distant.
All of a sudden, the quietness and the cold made me feel as though I were gone.
I was walking the path of death, toward heaven, and I could hear
Nothing on that white road except the sound of my quick footsteps, and the voice of
A man in my ears. These were the words he spoke:
The dead seek out their kin,
While angels sleep in endless dark.
The dead seek out sin.
My steps slowed, and I became curious about that white road.
It had an odd beauty, a queer beauty, not like that of a child or a woman.
This white road's beauty was neither innocent nor exotic.
It was the apprehensive beauty of the unknown . Was I afraid?
No, I was mystified walking down that road.
I looked behind me and saw a soul way back.
This white road was death and the walk to heaven, and time had stopped.
But no, time had not stopped; it just kept going deceptively, slow and ·fast.
By the time I looked again. that soul had passed me and was far ahead.
It seemed to me that he was received with open arms and welcomed,
While I was the last one remaining, and still so far from the end.
Would anyone wait for me? Would anyone guide me into heaven,
As someone did those souls? I asked myself this with a customary feeling,
A mixture of loneliness and apathy.
Would someone wait for me at the end of the lonely white road ?
I wondered as I walked down Eastern Parkway on a snowy day.
By Katherine de la Rosa