ice on a Silver Bay sidewalk; a heart of spruce and pine

it could be that
i like the symbolism
of a treadmill,
all that pantomimed running,
going nowhere.

isn’t this what it is
to be finally rid
of hope?
not in a disheartened way,
no, but
the hopelessness of being
flung fully open?

and of course having
nowhere to get
is not to say that there is
nowhere to go.

i walked deep into a fjord,
maybe it’s really just a bay.
the surrounding mountains
aren’t really all that tall,
but they rise from ocean’s edge,
and me, right there
at ocean’s edge!

in the gray chattering water,
whales surface,
plumes of mist
marking their brief arrivals.
i had nowhere
i needed to get,
was only taking my
aging heart
and an aging dog
for a walk.
the dog trotted amicably,
reading the daily news
through the smells left
by others.
and my heart,
feeling the creak of opening,
which is to say,

i had nowhere
i needed to get,
and so many places
still i could go.

the treadmill
spinning beneath my feet.
still, even in
frenetic motion,
still, still.

the heart is groaning
and creaking
as it opens itself
to the day,
to the moment,
to the spinning earth.
our feet briefly
upon it.
and everywhere,
still to go.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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