A Walk on the Beach
It is not the first day you began without words,
empty and uncertain, functional as hell,
but unable to pry loose the emotions
that lie under everything. It is not the first day
and surely it will not be the final one.
You crave simplicity. Clarity.
Steady ground beneath your feet.
A clear marker on the map.
A knowledge that you are here
and the path you are on ends here.
But that is not where you walk.
There is no certainty here.
Everything is tied to everything,
sand on the beach, changing with each tide,
more grains of sand than you can count,
always in flux, a long stretch to walk,
different each day, a path that never ends
until you turn around, worn
and hungry for home,
and walk back.
About this poem
It has amazed me how often over the years, getting to a better place involved getting back to some place I have already been.