Camino I
I carried
too many things.
Like most
people, probably.
Baggage no
longer needed.
Not needed
in the first place.
Simple is a
process
Of letting
go, unpacking.
One too many
screens,
Pieces of clothing
to wear,
Weight of
what can’t quite be surrendered.
I feel it,
finally,
Ounces of
extra
The pains –
foot cramps, shoulder knots –
Signposts of
my own unconscious consumption.
Camino II
Close your
eyes.
Walk.
It may take
a few steps,
Or many
To feel the
weight of all that you’re carrying.
Keep
walking.
You will
feel pain where you always do –
That left
hip, right knee, small of your back, old should injury,
Heart.
The bottoms
of your feet, certainly, from
Bringing you
so far –
This whole
life you’ve lived.
All the
mountains, the rivers you’ve had to ford.
Keep
walking.
Soon enough
those pains
Will ease.
A few more
steps,
Maybe many.
And then,
briefly,
Only for a
moment,
You will
grow wings.
Keep
walking.
You’ll
forget your own story
In the
rhythm of presence.
Step. Step. Step.
Inhale the
forest,
Dew-encrusted
moss,
Musky ferns,
Eucalyptus,
Here and
there the sharp, fresh, scent of pines.
Songbirds
chirping, hidden frogs
Croaking at
dawn.
Here,
there
is magic.
Keep
walking.
None of it
will last.
