The Place

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The Place

The surprise of hearing my own voice

like seeing slivers of light filtered between the trees

The words are whispered which I could have missed

Words of encouragement, a push

My eyes are closed, my attention sharpened

I am resting a bit after walking long

My breathing is trying to catch up with my steps

In trying to reach my goal I struggle

There are benches, handrails, sources of spring water

I am vulnerable but not feeble.

I am not alone, or helpless

Though night is approaching I am not lost.

Is it the wind or spirit descends from above the trees

A voice telling me a place in eternity

The place where I am going.

 

Decision

May be it’s to answer a call or blind fate in finding something

You decide to hike the Appalachian Trail.

The trail is kind to the brave and humble

The pain and sweat and determination

Stay with every step in solidarity with others.

To reach the summit the climb becomes steeper

You have to grab handholds firmly

And pull yourself up with steady upper body strength

In the thin air your heart has to persevere

Your legs gather the steps almost like forever

You do not lose sight of your stamina and purpose

Till a shout of triumphal gratitude.

 

You  are in your nineties now

Seldom mention the deep meaning of your accomplishment

You often smile when someone talks about hiking or a climb

You walk only two to three miles a day.

Farther than before

I walked farther today than the previous days: three miles. I crossed Napa River on an elevated  bridge and connected to the river trail, to the downtown then returned home on another street.

It was 65 degrees, sunny with a cool breeze. I met along the way other walkers and cyclists.  We all practiced the safe distancing. There colorful flowers and plants and art.

I stopped a lot to take photos.

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A new reality

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Allowed to go out to take walks

Or get basic essentials for daily living.

I walk to the river for fresh air and scenery

The clouds form many disguises

The blue heron comes then flies away

Horses nonchalant in its movements

Tiny flowers adorn the lawn

My daily miracle.

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Fresh approach

After correction of errors, a shift in imagination

The weight lifted lighten the wings for wider spaces

The stories written with new desire for understanding

Seeing and describing reality.

The moments of waiting before the unfolding

Is utter loneliness.

The objects of desire are well illustrated

Ushered in the open air.

We forget defeats, remember victories

The painful ones, the hardest ones

Written in the bones, carried in the tears

We smile and say, why not.

The art of fresh approach, act of integration

The next story of enchantment we will write

As if we are thinking of immortality

We are offering our homage and gratitude.

Struggle

A glass of wine and rain on a March afternoon

She says she just visited Morocco

Ate a lot of foods served in tagines.

 

I struggle to know

The imperfections of a place

To find a solution, an honest quest

Some look familiar, others look relevant

A little twist, a little nudge can move small stones

Inspiring but not enough to tackle boulders

Unheroic simplicity to a balanced life.

Even busy exhausting life

Can point to God

With his never absent mercy and love.

To seek God is not for a day or a month

It’s not a pilgrimage

It’s a lifelong task, I will find in him

“The ultimate reasons for things.”

Sometimes we feel dead in our faith

Sometimes we feel invigorated like spring

The desert of lent is not devoid of life

“Rise, do not be afraid.”

The Other Road

The structures were well illustrated

The choices were made after long studies

I was surrounded by experiences

All willing to part with their advice

My decision oscillated between practical and fairy tales

My imagination painted the stories

Traveling with premonition of arrival

In altered reality

I smiled because I took

The road not taken by others

Discovered a deeper experience.

Length of Stay

Length of Stay

There is no more boredom or uneven walk on the hiking trail
No more mere acorns and colored pebbles from the riverbed
A new day of catastrophe’s widening reach
Wearing a mask wherever one goes
Suspicion of catching the virus when traveling, talking with friends and strangers
Living in narrow corridors
A suffocating feeling, counting the hours
Waiting when the end come?
With fear of being left alone and contagious

Today I walk to the river
There is a pink breasted bird flying from one branch to another, from one tree to another tree
Tweeting and communicating in a high pitch bird talk
I see a fisherman attending to his line
The fish has not touched any of his baits
But living is not all about intensity and patience
Not all about uncertainties and business hours
Life is also about the every day simplicity: corn on the cob and opening an umbrella during the rain,
A good book, kind thoughts, and Beethoven
And kissing you goodnight.