Even though I’m older, I still
wander into wild unknown places.
I climb rugged trails
crossed by tangled roots
and strewn with unsettled stones
that tumble
unheeded
in my wake.
The ground ahead looms
with threats and pitfalls.
Old ghosts haunt me,
and my clumsy feet stumble
on my own misgivings.
The memory
of my younger self
bounds ahead,
reckless and brave,
while the short breaths
of my mortality
admonish me for all my past indulgences
and prompt me to wonder
if my ability to safely navigate
these rocky paths
is all I ever should have wished for.
Prisma’d photo: Diane Perazzo – MacKenzie King Trail summit, Gatineau Park, Quebec
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love it, it resonates is these old bones. Shasta
Thank you my friend! I knew you would resonate!!
Greetings Diane,
I love your poem and identify with it struggling, climbing, walking trails up until a couple of months ago. When I walk the trails of a certain local park my mind wanders over past events. Did I act properly in this situation? What could I have done at another remembered occasion? Did I laugh here? Did I cry there? Who was the victim of my wrath? Of my ineptitude?
I long to walk the trails again. To be among my Brothers and Sisters, the trees, the feel of the earth beneath my feet. Hearing bird songs.
I think I identify with your poem. Thank you.
Thank you for this heartfelt response Michael. May your mobility continue to improve so you can be among the trees again soon. 💕
Thank you.
Diane – I so enjoy everything you create. Tender expressions of aging – and you are still climbing those trails!
Oh thank you Elizabeth! ❤️🍃
Love your poem. Thank you for sharing Diane! ❤️
Iva
Thank you so much dear Iva!!