My Life as A River

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Loftier Trails

for all my trail friends

 

trails whisper enchanting
tones of longing embrace
to wild and curious spirits
creatures not unlike me
they summon entrance into
faraway portals of hope
to explore in—to touch on
to reach beyond spaces
and meet new friends
to immerse grubby feet
in calm streams of grace
and to sojourn lighter in
sparser songs of nature

 

I wander as a quieter soul
free as a nomadic breeze
roaming organic labyrinths
in corridors of mother earth
a traveler upon an errand
wearing-in paths of time
on nature’s conservatory
of imprints to wildness
an oft-forgotten sanctuary
to every particle of life
that innocently soar silent
in freedoms of azure air
or rage in the lower world

 

up high—hallowed legends
scribble in winding paths
bent arches veil mysteries
in a brush full of birdsong
cursives of flowing poetry
weave their forest melody
in fragrant jade shadows
caresses from damp ferns
bluebells defang switchbacks
haunts of windswept ridges
and curious eyes of secreted
all arouse my eager senses
into the harmonic sanity
of all her pristine therapy

 

trails render our escape
they trap our darkness
upon outcrops of repose
and soothe our anxieties
in meadows of wildflower
fears run out like talus
left behind a massif trudge
pasts of broken hearts
mend between trek poles
and pains amid bones
or binding maladies of age
ease in pulsating breaths
to fade like old friends
in memories of youth

 

in rhythms of footsteps
burnishing cobbles bronze
lodged in paths of peace
we shape our statures—
into rigid strengths like
tireless stone sentinels
any voids of emotions fill
with echoes of past waters
cruel maladies of mind
and overworked bodies
thin inside the evaporating
sweats of a newly found
passageway into serenity

 

reaching into forlorn winds
long after worn trails fade
into painted rocks and
cairns of auburn quartz
thin ledges grip footsteps
around pinnacles coated
in histories of lichens or
snarled bones of bristlecone
I gasp for interred oxygen
I shudder in voids of coldness
as a small lavender flower
smiles from its tight crevice
on a mountain desolation

 

this intriguing trace of life
reflects the hidden labor
of service and investment
to all who share so kindly
and labor indefatigably
in selfless healing causes
we walk in humble shoes
of thanks to their vision
as we seek our way home
in either direction of trail
givers leave guideposts
along paths worn by hearts
to give us rest and direction

 

and as I rise high against sky
to touch a warm blessed sun
igniting steps on my apex
I crest a summit of dreams
inhaling forgiving winds
of pure and resilient energy
I bow my essence down
and give thanks for a trail
funded selflessly—nobly
sketched in masterful lines
etched out by strong hands
that lead to a loftier purpose
in time—as my quest closes
in worn boots and dusty skin—
I know—how to find my way