That night when I left my
tears
at the foot of the altar
of the old Mission,
I felt
the pain and
the weariness
and the
drudgery
of futility.
Upon leaving
the mission grounds
I heard
the
breeze
whispering
softly
and felt the
drops
of rain beginning to
fall.
In the shadows
the rain formed
his shape
and the breeze
formed his voice.
“I am Junípero Serra.”
said the
shade,
“Do not
despair.
Be on guard
until
we see each other
again.
Now listen
for the sound
of my
bell.”
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About jedwardnajera
I am an artist and a Poet. I live the life of a poet. I published several novels. Nena the Fairy and the Iron Rose, Dust of the Moon are among them, available through Amazon Books. I have spent over thirty five years in a classroom. I am now retired from that profession.
My father kept a living record of his lifetime as he lived through the Twentieth Century. He was born in 1908 and almost lived long enough to see us enter the new millennium.
He entrusted to me nearly 400 pages that he wrote through the years.
Now I am continuing the tradition by posting my own stories and misadventures.
I am trying to post a new entry or chapter each Friday. Check in on us at least once a week for the latest post.
Your father had a unique mind, and how wonderful to have his writings, to look into his soul and to know that you are part of him.