Posted in Uncategorized, tagged endurance, heart, love, patience on September 3, 2020| Leave a Comment »
In the middle of my heart
is a meadow with tall golden grass
and a big blue blanket
spread out like an invitation.
I never fold it up.
Not ever.
It is always the right time
to meet you there.
The light is always golden.
The air is always sweet.
Even when I ache.
Even when my heart
ticks in my chest,
not like a clock,
like a bomb.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged endurance, journey, partnership, poem, poetry on January 4, 2017| 6 Comments »
Just because there is no trail
doesn’t mean that I won’t lead you there,
and just because I am leading now
doesn’t mean I won’t follow you.
And just because we are blinded by fog
doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still travel on,
and just because we are laughing
doesn’t mean this journey is a good idea,
then again, we are laughing,
and just because the wind is at our backs
doesn’t mean the hill won’t be steep,
and just because we feel intrepid now
doesn’t mean we have used even a thousandth
of what we’ve been given to use.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged endurance, falling in love with the world, Syllabic Meter, walking on September 29, 2011| 2 Comments »
Tonight I am too blood tired
to pretend I am happy.
Too tired to hold up any
face. Outside the world is slow-
ing to a stiller version
of itself. I feel myself
stilling, but not ending, not
yet. I once heard a story
about a man who ran bare
foot through a cornfield in fall
and woke the next day with holes
in his feet. For years, I have
dreamed it was me, and could I
go on walking after that?
Tonight the word is yes. Tired
as I am, the drive to walk
and walk and fall in love with
the world—though harsh, though bristled—
is stronger than any urge
to give up. If I give up
anything, it’s this crazy
compulsion to please. I am
tired, too blood tired to pretend
anything, but not too tired
to keep on walking, walking.