The Snail’s Trail

May the poems be
the little snail’s trail.

Everywhere I go,
every inch: quiet record

of the foot’s silver prayer.
              I lived once.
              Thank you.
              It was here.

~Aracelis Girmay “Ars Poetica”  

What do I leave behind as I pass through to what comes next?

It might be as slick and silvery and random as a snail trail — hardly and barely there, easily erased.

I might leave behind the solid hollow of an empty shell, leading to infinity, spiraling to nothing and everything.

Instead,
I pray, grateful, for a legacy of words and images;
I notice the wonder I journey through.

I was here.

One thought on “The Snail’s Trail

  1. this reminds me of the lyrics of and old song:” this world is not my home, i’m just a passing through. my treasures are laid up, somewhere beyond the blue…” we are here for such a short time. we should leave some evidence of our faith life so that others might find some evidence of The One who created it!!

    Liked by 1 person

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