In the stationary silence
I seek answers that already
lie at me feet.
I look for skies that already
fill my vision.
And I seek truth to my purpose
that has played out for hundreds of years.
What hands move the pieces in this universe?
What hands guide the universes along the surface
of the vast oceans and between each grain of sand?
That crossroad we come to
in moments of stress and blocks,
the struggle choking rational thoughts,
the behavior, the actions – this is not me.
How did this happen?
How did I get here?
Change is subtle and patient.
One day we vow to find balance,
to live and act a certain way,
to be, most importantly, better than
Then time takes over,
and one winter morning, awake before the alarm,
thoughts are consumed with the upcoming day,
week, and months, items and events beyond
control, but consuming, pushing
away everything that is important, that matters.
Closing eyes tight, breathing, trying to push
this away and overcome the thoughts, but it has wrapped cold bony
fingers around the mind and wont let go.
I am losing sight of the path,
I am losing focus of the empty fields.
Each day folds into another as the weeks
and months pass with little notice
and soon another year rises beyond the horizon
and I am forced to confront where I am in this life
and if this is where I want to be, is this the path
I started down before?
How do I break from this cycle?
How do I wrestle back control and stake claim
to the life I am meant to live?
Surrounded by more questions than answers
the day continues the race from yesterday.
Searching the earth for clues,
of another part of ourselves,
perhaps one that has answers,
one that has been down that path before.
We scrape the dry hardened ground and find nothing.
Hands steeped in dirt
the afternoon sun beats down
on exhausted bodies.
“Are you out there beyond the
merging of the sky and the sea?”
I ask of the ravens atop trees
lining the shoreline.
I am torn as to my place here
when I only have a few fragments
left, the rest have scattered,
on a journey through the infinite
space, speeding toward the beginning
or some abstract ending.
An anxious feeling I cannot shake
as the questions keep building.
I have been down this path before
that empty silent road leading
nowhere and everywhere, the cold
wind, the bare trees, and the sky
merging with the earth –
where does it end
and where does it go?
I have been in that state
of disconnect, beyond lost,
detached from people, from
reality, from myself, from home –
that place we come from
and look to for direction.
I looked, and looked everywhere,
out there, in the distance, to the sky
with anger and confusion, to others –
until I finally found the answer
here, starting with my feet touching
the dirt, and in each leaf and in
each animal gracing the earth.
Standing at the shoreline
I awake when the sun peaks
over the horizon and the waves
crawl across frozen rock and cover my feet.
I do not know how long I have been here
at this border between the land and the sea.
I have vague recollections of why I am here.
You see, years have passed and the person I am
today does not really resemble the man troubled
and lost, weak and scared.
Holding and embracing the experiences I peer
at each fragment, taste the memory and vow
to move on, to be better than I was, beyond myself
into the space and fields and sky that I exist within
and part of.
So I stand at this border dividing the land and sea.
Who will I become next?
By what standard do I hold my being to and if
I falter will I still cross the border?
I sit on the golden tinged earth
as questions I thought become
answers that I see when in the
distance a figure follows the only
path, the exact border between
the land and the sea and when
he is close his hand
placed upon my head and when
I look up, grandfather.
These simple moments of nature’s gentle cycle
coupled with the raw energy exhibited here and beyond
humble this man juggling chaos
looking for simplicity
looking for answers to
questions I have not asked.