The past are things I do not know
The present are things I can not touch
The future is a cat in the act of jumping
“Deep in your soul you don’t want to be the last.”
I decide I will go south
To master something I have to comprehend it first
I will carry a camera with a simple admonition
“How can I make them blind to my presence?”
The Masked Woman
I remember the first time
I saw you sitting inside a tire
Swinging under a tree
Like a happy child
Your eyes were fixed on me
Like a bee chasing my thoughts.
I was memorizing the afternoon
Poetry of a pandemic.
Where will they hide, the feral cats?
Cranes have ancient places to migrate to
With years added to years one thinks
Of these things like pointed pursuits.
One idea takes hold of another idea
Like rising pitch of a siren hurrying to a destination
Cranes know where to go
And where to return.
Dreams can be deep in the subconscious
Will functional imaging know?
Subconscious messages wanting explanations
Who will quote them?
Somewhere new light is emerging
The eagerness is hard to stop
Shortening years do not dwell on losses
Not in darkness but in new striving.
Life is to be mastered and celebrated
Life can be full to the end.
Can I see it or feel it?
I walk to the river
The part of the world opens
Other walkers walk alone
Or with their dogs or with other walkers
Nature greets us in songs and colorful displays
Do we need measurements
And ask : Will experience be sublime?
Watching the fishermen:
the boys and their mother
catch 3 fish in one afternoon
within a space of 30 minutes
is enough to fill my heart.
I continue my walk,
a kayaker paddles his way in the river
another, older fisherman hides under a shade
and a fellow walker resting on a bench
while 3 ducks are inching their places on a concrete ground
I wave goodbye to a lone bird on top of electric wires.
I’m walking home.
Under a tree
A young boy returning from a walk to the river
Stops under a tree, glances at its little shade
Pulls from one of his pockets an orange
Starts peeling, dropping the peelings on the ground
Cuts a slice and puts it in his mouth.
Smiles, then resumes his walk.
I continue my walk towards the river.
Accumulation of solitudes, tumult of the heart diminishes
until it’s just a whisper, light as a leaf
You have been longing
to know your real self
During your walk
or when alone in the river
You feel your deep affinity with nature
with other creatures
Alone with the blue heron
or with other traveler
Pandemic awakens your consciousness,
shakens by injustice.
Beware when all the running stops
numbness sets in and silence.
Out of weariness and withered trees
love will rise.
We talked for hours
We compared our separate memories:
notebooks, cupcakes, candlelight dinners
Coming out at night after we ran out of dreams
Our arms were still empty
like two anglers standing on a river bank
reviewing the science of angling,
studying the river landscape
Where are the insects?
the shadows, the deep hiding places
silence of pride and pleasure.
Imagine if life is timeless.
They pause for lunch.
Do the fish miss also the fisherman?
It’s not shyness
The energy hides in the heaps
You can look but the present is unique
in its solitary hours
voluntarily you read the shadows silently
capture them in words and instant moment photos
the yearning to hold your hands is overwhelming
Blindness Not Just The Eyes
I stand laughing and looking
You at the buoyant side of being funny
Your words trickle on the safe distance between us
The trick is to make it lasts longer
Longer than the recitation of arithmetic of pandemic
When to open doors, breath the fresh air
Without widening the hospital doors
More cases will enter, more deaths
We cry, pray without even hope of holding hands
There is already so much written about haste and finance
Lacking tests and more tests
They have deaf ears
Counting other types of numbers
Want the numbers bold and arrogant
Going deeper, poorer, much poorer in spirit.