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Posts Tagged ‘path’

Off the Path

 

 

On the path, I am the one

who forgets to look up—

 

the one who doesn’t see the mountain

because I am focused on the path.

 

I am the one who fears the dead end,

who worries and obsesses about it,

 

only to discover it wasn’t an end at all,

just a sharp turn, and the path goes on.

 

I am the one who fears she’s not good enough

for this path, who wonders if there’s another path

 

somewhere that I am supposed to be on.

Everyone else seems to know where they’re going.

 

I can’t even seem to spot the signs.

Confused, I stop, which allows me

 

to notice the weeds gone to seed,

notice their tiny white globes, notice

 

how good it feels to stop

and notice them. I am the one who

 

cares so much about the path and still

fails at staying on it. In fact,

 

the more I pay attention, the more

I am the one who forgets there is a path.

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( … )

 

 

 

She wanders the parenthetical garden,

each curved stem an invitation to step

away from the trail (remember how the Stoic

said to dwell on the beauty of life, to run

with the stars), and soon she is what some

call lost (Any fool can know, said Einstein,

the point is to understand), and there,

lost in the sound of the bird she doesn’t hear

(Heard melodies are sweet, said Keats,

but those unheard are sweeter), she sits

on the swing of her thoughts (what is it

she is so afraid of) (seek those, said Rumi,

who fan your flame)(how comfortable

can she become with her errors)(false start)

and notices how it is the knots that hold up

the swing (what story is she ignoring?).

This garden, my god, it is beautiful.

She was going somewhere, wasn’t she?

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Direction

 

 

lost in this meadow

deep in the grass

so easy to think

there is no path—

 

ask the mice

ask the stars

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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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