I have walked these thirteen miles just to stand outside your door. The rain has dogged my footsteps for thirteen miles, for thirty years, through the monsoon seasons ... and now my tears have all been washed away.
Through thirteen miles of rain I slogged, I stumbled and I climbed rainslickened slopes that led me home to the hope that I might find a life I lived before.
The door is wet; my cheeks are wet, but not with rain or tears ... as I knock I sweat and the raining seems the rhythm of the years.
Now you stand outlined in the doorway —a man as large as I left— and with bated breath I take a step into the accusing light.
Your eyes are grayer than I remembered; your hair is grayer, too. As the red rust runs down the dripping drains, our voices exclaim—
"My father!" "My son!"
NOTE: “Sanctuary at Dawn” was written either in high school or during my first two years of college. Keywords/Tags: father, son, conflict, reconciliation, storm, rain, tears, sweat, mud, slog, downpour, flood