Mystery Shoes

I collect images like rocks, shiny little rocks that I may pick up along the way. Some of the images keep me up at night, won’t allow me to sleep; other images haunt me daily and I’m unable to shake. Unknowingly, I collected some pretty rocks yesterday.

I was driving down the street, headed home when I passed an SUV. The woman driver had jumped out and she was standing in the middle of the street shrieking. There was a man too, but I didn’t see him at first. I drove past but something within told me to turn back around and go see if I could help her. When I turned around I saw why she was shrieking. Her windshield was fractured. A man was draped across the top of her truck, his blood pouring down the side of her car. And the man, the one I hadn’t seen at first, had climbed on top of the truck and was yelling the name of the man draped across the top. After being assured that an ambulance was being called, I left. I kept going, knowing there was nothing I could do but join the swell of onlookers who were drawn there by the gory scene. As I was pulling away, I saw a pair of white tennis shoes near the sidewalk. I was sure these were the shoes the man had been wearing before…just before.

Those images I collected remained with me all throughout the evening. One kept me from being able to fall asleep and one greeted me as I woke up this morning. And one of the two will never ever leave me. It’s just one of those things they don’t tell us –like what it really looks like to witness someone you love die – those things you have to discover on your own. I won’t try and rid myself of the images because they remind me of the fragility of life and how important it is to live life fully and lovingly.

Mystery Shoes

The shoes in the road

were not enough

to tell you

who he was or

where he’d been or

even where he was going.

They were simply shoes,

not enough to make you

notice him

and perhaps that’s why

you looked away.

Didn’t see him till it was

too late.

And by then his shoes

were empty.

In the one second

it took

to look away

you were

gone.

Peace & Love,
Rosalind

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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