Unlikely Niobrara Epiphany
Nebraska, 2002
At midnight,
the prairie was
a velvet veld
near a river on
an abandoned farm
in the dying
middle of America.
On the pioneer earth,
rattlesnakes slithered,
coyotes howled
and prowled.
You sat on the roof
of your old car
unable to imagine
what got you
to where you are:
a rare still point
on spinning planet
beset by busyness;
a hole of darkness
without a flicker
of light, peering
upward into
a beckoning night.
More stars than souls
have ever lived.
Time and space
simply stopped
in the stillness
of that empty place.
A recognition vaguely
profound vibrated
in your bedazzled brain,
transcending the personal
pettiness of your life’s
meaningless meandering
through love and pain.
For far above you,
those innumerable stars
blinked out what might
have been a coded,
eternal, joyous message,
maybe a missal of hope.
You gaped in wonder,
trembled, shook,
as if shown a page
from a celestial book.
Decades on that awe remains.
Occasionally, it seems
to whisper in your head,
there must be more,
though you never could
make out exactly
what the message said.
