The Difficult Path Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In a cleft of voodoo I find my forgotten love,
Once thought to have been
Run over by a get a way car: now there she is,
Like a piece of silver once folded over
A pie that was stolen by sparrows
And placed or discarded here for some
Reason,
Up in a key hole looking down at bears trying to
Learn about fire,
A talisman for only the keenest of tourists now:
And if she had a daughter,
The girl is forgotten, but in a home as blue- green
As any of the most beautiful of oceans,
And she goes her way,
Sing and chanting as she cleans a house,
Never looking up to imagine the possibilities of the
Spectacle of her mother
Made into a cenotaph at this very hidden place
On the ridge,
A striking and very sad way post nearing the end
Of the difficult path up to my heaven.