The Path to Where
THE PATH TO WHERE
The path to where is very long.
It winds over bumps and through detours,
Often dead-ending in piles of old leaves,
Which
When kicked
Yield no resistance
And so flutter and float to earth
While you pitch forward in your excess of energy,
Tumbling down with a thud.
The path to where is very empty.
Don’t expect company
For they are on another track
Set and settled.
So you travel it alone,
Trailing arms through
Icy fog,
Garnering cold water beads
On your fingertips.
The path to where is probably endless.
You travel for a lifetime
Expecting to arrive
Hoping for a rest stop
But you don’t
And there is none.
So you keep going
Feet dragging time passing
Growing ever numb to the pain.
The path to where is very long.
It winds over bumps and through detours,
Often dead-ending in piles of old leaves,
Which
When kicked
Yield no resistance
And so flutter and float to earth
While you pitch forward in your excess of energy,
Tumbling down with a thud.
The path to where is very empty.
Don’t expect company
For they are on another track
Set and settled.
So you travel it alone,
Trailing arms through
Icy fog,
Garnering cold water beads
On your fingertips.
The path to where is probably endless.
You travel for a lifetime
Expecting to arrive
Hoping for a rest stop
But you don’t
And there is none.
So you keep going
Feet dragging time passing
Growing ever numb to the pain.
posted by Vicky | 7:15 PM
6 Comments:
This almost seems visionary, like dream imagery. It's the detail about the old leaves that I find the most compelling. I also like the thought of how we travel, "expecting to arrive." I spent many years like that. The road to where and when: "When I get that job, I..."; "When I publish a book, I..."; and on and on. Just when I would think I'd "arrived," I'd find myself lost again, empty and shivering, wondering what to do next. I think it's interesting that the speaker thinks others are "set and settled." It does seem that way: In reality, most everyone is on the road to where. This is a big step for you, Vicky. It's been a while since I've written something so true. I've been laboring at my writing since I started back to school, little of it pleases me. But this pleases me very much.
Thank you so much for saying all that, Theresa. And I am happy that it pleases you. I don't consider myself a poet, but this was something I had to write. Great art? No, but that's ok. And I don't say that my perceptions are correct, but (sometimes regrettably) they are my perceptions.
I think art is something that looks into the abyss, into what we most fear. Therefore, this absolutely qualifies. I believe many feel this way, or have felt this way. You should be very proud of this for all sorts of reasons. I hope you write more.
Vicky, I like you poem very much. It was particularly interesting to read it juxtaposed with Erin's entry on Walden pond. Somehow the path, even though it's in the woods by Walden, becomes the path to where. I wonder how this happens. On a different note, my own perspective on blogging is that we don't have to worry about it being "art," do we? If so, I'm going to be very inhibited. I live what you are doing very much, and always look forward to visiting "thinking about it." --Beth
I do apologize for the typos in my earlier entry.
Vicky, I'm going to think about this entry a lot today, and about my own "path to where." I especially enjoyed the lines, "The path to where is very empty. / Don't expect company / For they are on another track / Set and settled." This feeling of isolation (even sometimes while in the midst of friends) is one of the things that makes life's journey very difficult and also very interesting. At the end of the day, it really is just you and what you make of your life. Others play supporting roles, sometimes very important ones, but that isolation is always there. Especially, I think, for a writer.
I'd love to see more of your writing as you create it!
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