I walk to be unconnected.
Peace, it is profound,
quiet, cold, and windless.
Dim and gray, the light.
Dreary skies reflect
within still waters.
Blue distant mountains
echo dimly across
horizon’s edge.
Grasses thick and yellow
grip the sands,
lick at water’s cold
and silted touch.
No birds or bugs,
no frogs or fish,
all seem asleep,
awaiting winter’s
harsh and stinging
prickly crush.
To find such comfort,
ease of tension,
a slowing silencing
of my thoughts,
is not for everyone.
Some thrive on noise,
chaotic masses swarming,
ravenously sucking at
Earth’s enriching tits.
They’ll never get their fill.
They’ll suck her dry.
And all behind in line
will choke, then
wither unto dust.
I turn and wonder at
scrawlings on the wall.
How did Jason,
Jake, and Spoon
meet untimely end?
A car crash up on
the bridge above?
Or, with drugs too strong
against these walls beneath?
And, why was Dopey
not among the dead?
Was he the guilty one
procured the drugs?
Or, was he the only kid
who’s parents bade
him stay behind,
tend to chores,
and be on time?
I took this stroll
to find unconnection.
And yet, I am.
I cannot avoid
a sympathetic
deep connection
to Jason, Jake,
Spoon, and Dopey.
I, too, was once young,
ambitious, somewhat
reckless, and a man.
I would have liked
to meet them all,
understood their lives,
their connection
to this place,
known where they’d been
and hoped to go,
and tried to imagine
what any one of us
might have done
to help achieve for them
something more
than sad and empty
untimely end.
Water flows,
grasses dry
bend down
to take their rest.
One day, too,
this bridge
will crumble.
No memory of
Jason, Jake,
Spoon, or Dopey
will survive.
Only you and I
uphold the torch
of how special,
precious really,
it is to be alive.
|
Wednesday, October 31st, 2018
Jensen
UT
USA
|
