My last journey is a journey toward wholeness
which started 4 years ago and has not yet ended.
My companions are words written in the light
and darkness of wisdom traditions, voices that try
to calm my swirling inner life so I can find the way.
Many have found it before me, but they built no path
for others to follow. Each must find their own.
The topography is both natural and human-made,
and so is the soundtrack. Plants and animals
seem accepting of what is within the circle
of their lives, and yet they—we—carry some
knowledge of the weariness of earth. She’s
trying to survive the abuse of mankind, and
throwing fits of flood and fire as she fumes.
Should I describe the concrete that cracks under
pressure from human transportation and tree roots?
I am more drawn to record images of the trees
stubbornly upright, courage on full display for
any beings who want to learn their way—and for
beings who want to rest and live in their arms.
Here I lean, catching my breath before moving on.
I live in a fully equipped cave—bed linens
and computer screens and food and books. Cats
keep out bugs and mice, and remind me to cook.
I spend hours in movies and TV news, so much time
that I forget how to write, to dream, and to journey.
The word "reparations' floats by and I follow it,
letting the deserving teach me to move again.