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Posts Tagged ‘path’

 

 

 

And let there be rain,

though the path is easier

when dry, and let there be

a bend in the road.

Let us think we know

where we are going—

and let us be wrong.

There are wings in us

we’ve forgotten.

Let us walk until

we remember them.

And then, let us walk

for the joy of walking.

Because puddles.

Because the path.

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Just because we can’t imagine

what it will look like, this path,

doesn’t mean it won’t appear.

Just today, I took a detour

off the interstate when a rolled semi

closed down all the lanes.

The GPS suggested

a back road, which turned

into dirt road, which turned

into dozens of switchbacks,

one hairpin turn after another

rising up and away from the route

I had planned. The GPS died.

No one else going the same way,

which always makes a mind wonder.

Just because we have little idea

where we are doesn’t mean

we are lost. And being lost

doesn’t mean we aren’t right where we

are meant to be, off on our own,

more alert than before

amongst the ten thousand

shades of evergreen.

Eventually, the detour proved true,

and I was back on pavement,

then back on the interstate.

the taste of dust on my lips.

 

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One in the Snow

 

 

 

dancing with the shovel

for an hour on the drive,

everywhere we go, a path

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for Susan

 

 

Walking the world of dry leaves

and rickety bridges,

there as in old letters,

we marvel at the things

we once knew that we have

just recently discovered—

How new it all is again.

How we orbit the same sun

every day and still

can be astonished

by the way things

shine.

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Bliss in Fifteen Minutes

 

 

 

Lost in the woods

I tell myself it is not so bad

to be lost—

just look at the curve

of that red rock wall,

just listen to that wind,

how it finds everything.

How lost can I be?

The scent of juniper

finds me again, again,

again.

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All This Time

 

 

 

calling it a journey

when we have never

stopped arriving

 

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Eventually you decide the scratches are worth it

and you wade through the vines into the thicket

where the berries still hang red and ripe and profuse.

You leave a suggestion of a path behind you.

Tomorrow it will be invisible, like so many paths

you’ve made. The bushes, like convictions, will reclaim

their wildness. But for now, there is this sweetness

to follow, this hunger, this pleasure in finding a way,

this drive to harvest all that the day has to offer.

 

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Directions

It is not that the path
has disappeared. It is only
that, stunned with grief
and kicked by fear,
we sometimes lose our will
to put one foot
in front of the other.
But we are not lost.
Already in the dark
we have found each other.
What astonishes is
that there are so many of us,
and already
we are building bridges
made of light.
The world shakes,
we stumble
and we help each other rise,
and now it is time
for us again to put one foot in front of the other—
not to escape what frightens us
but to walk unflinchingly
toward the messy center of things.
The path we choose now
is not one we’ve walked or even seen before,
the path is one that appears
beneath our feet
with each step,
and we persist,
travelers in the frozen dark
who begin to see the light as it shapes the horizon
and know, though it’s cold,
that the change we dream of
has already begun to arrive.

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Growing Orbits

 

 

 

Dead end. That is what the sign said.

Funny how long I’ve believed I could only walk on the road.

It was the deer who showed me how to leap the fence,

how to circle the sign in irregular orbits.

There was no end to the number of paths I might choose.

I was clumsy at first, unversed in this new navigation—

the earth so soft I easily lost my balance.

It was the breath that taught me to pour my weight

first into one foot, then into the other.

My soles relearned how to meet the ground.

It was the clouds that showed me how to let myself

be orchestrated by wind, spiraling like a bird,

as if stirred by some great hand.

Ever since I began circling, I’ve come to see that dead ends

as invitations.

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Destination

 

 

 

Leaping off the train

not sure where I’m going

but certain no tracks

will get me there.

In the field

every step a new step.

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