The bullet had struck the water about two yards in front of him and would have hit him in the upper back had he not bent to retrieve the reins just before the carbine’s report. Then, he heard multiple crackling gunshots. This time, he realized the shots were too far away
And now, he couldn’t pray once more. The silence in his head was deafening. His body leaned forward, and his legs buckled at the knees as if the breeze had ushered him into a station to receive penance. He knelt, and he wept.
It all ends where it ends.
That event would change my life and start me on a path of discovery reconciling emotion, grief, and ultimately healing and fulfillment through my writing, prose, and poetry.
When I was a hundred, old memories I couldn’t share comforted me. Time stood still like an old, well-read book lying open to a favorite passage. But people were shadows who passed in front of me, changing into a formless ether. When I was a hundred, I was fearless.