Tiny chapels of stone or brick built in gratitude so overpowering it needed the act of building and had the funds to make it happen: “travel chapels” because in those days, someone of means arrived at his destination despite wolves, robber knights, bears, crappy roads, crappy carriage wheels, rain, and no-joking pre-electricity darkness.
At my office, in this century, I hang up the phone with such gratitude. This time, the lab results bring no news (which is good news). I draw the outline of what looks like a shed with a steeple, pin the sketch above my desk a chapel icon for all journeys, every split second, on water and land, someone out there is underway. From point B to point A, someone is just ahead of the wolves, quick fingers, stolen swords hell-weather, chance. Today I’ve arrived safely. Here’s my Reisekapelle reminder, my graphite thank you. I’ll be traveling again, as will you. Let us be mindful. [End Page 294]
Katy Giebenhain edits the Poetry + Theology rubric for Seminary Ridge Review. She completed her M.Phil. at the University of Glamorgan (Wales), and her M.A. at the University of Baltimore. Her poems have appeared in Appalachian Journal, The London Magazine, Backbone Mountain Review, Saint Katherine Review, Bordercrossing-Berlin, Water-Stone Review, Pretending to be Italian and the anthology Tokens for the Foundlings. She lives in Pennsylvania. email@example.com