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Posts Tagged ‘walking’

Beside the moss
beside red rock

we walk, we walk
to the falls and talk

and long, long after
you have gone,

the empty space
you left near me

walks on with me
walks on.

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Love says, ‘I am everything.’
Wisdom says, ‘I am nothing.’
Between these two my life flows.
–Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

It is enough today
to walk. The road
is gravel. To the left,
dry fields. To the right,
dry grass and sage. Cottonwoods
line the wash. The time
was once when steeper
was better and faster
was the only way.
I was not happier then,
only faster. I still
throw my arms
up to the sky
and say here,
here I am, here I am.
My heart, seeing
the crow silhouetted
against the sun
still rises, nearly bursts
with strange joy.
Oh wings!
The old apple tree
beside the road
drops a misshapen apple
into my hand. Yellow
and tart, it is sweeter
than the bitterness of longing.
I eat it all.

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That was the day
that she stopped the car
at the edge of the highway,
opened the door,
got out and began to walk.
Past the ditch full of cattails
and blue plastic bags,
past the yellow mail box,
past the house with the royal blue roof,
past the dead cat,
past the empty cardboard box,
she did not look back,
past the man digging in his field
who remarked it was too hot
to walk, and she nodded and
kept on walking.

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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.

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