A crown of sonnets.
Hurrying, somewhere, there to here
As if it were important,
as if their lives depend on it, on something-
which, perhaps, they do. Underneath the hurrying,
The grass is soft, silent, well-cared for.
It is a subtle sign of the bubble we live inside,
this clever double of the "real world",
whatever that means. Everyone lives in a bubble,
or tries to, and we call it a tragedy when they burst;
Safety first. We walk so fast through this place,
time, avoid each other. Interact, don't relate,
In a hurry, can't be late. (My own small rebellion:
I walk barefoot through tended grass.)
Because I want to feel something, anything,
Everything. Shoes are a protection, a small prison,
Keep me safe from sharp rocks and speck of glass.
The walk between there and here is through the valley of the shadow,
but I'm starting to believe life is about rocks
And specks of glass.
(I hope I'm not wrong -
one day looking down at bloody feet and blurred vision.)
I'm still young, yes, and very glad of it-
I can still walk barefoot, at least in this bubble
This place of protection. The grit and glass are swept away,
and the shadow I walk through is not of death, not exactly.
I am restless, tired of safety.
I wish I was not American, insane leaders of the free world.
I hate my own wealth, my prosperity disgusts me;
Even my innocence is distasteful to me.
I wish I was not born white,
that I might walk the reality of racism.
I wish I was not born male,
that I might walk the frustration of invisibility.
I wish I was not born straight,
that I might walk the hardship of hate.
My life, to this point, has been a dreamsong;
a lullaby, warm and soft. My wishes
Are nonsense, desires of a fool.
I am young, and there is so much I don't understand.
What is the relationship between belief and understanding?
I walk down Park Street, breathe lilac-alive air; recognize
that I don't understand much of what I believe
and that makes me nervous. Yet faith, by nature,
defies understanding. Laughing, I realize
That if I wait to understand, I will believe
Nothing. I pass the YWCA, scan the blue sky
for clouds: nothing. I don't deserve such weather.
The daffodils are blooming. Each year they do this;
Each year I am amazed, speechless. I don't understand
How things can die and be reborn. And now
my not-understanding compels me to believe.
Belief sustains me: if I am wrong, I will live.
I have been wrong before, certainly
and I'm not talking about Jeopardy.
Today I am running instead of walking.
My mind is full of the relationship that wasn't,
The one I broke off only days ago.
I don't know if it's harder to give up a pipe dream,
A could-be that never was (and really couldn't-be),
Or to look into the deep face of loneliness,
The inadequacy of myself, and wonder
(as with everything) if this is my life.
This blank place, struggling not to want,
Deciding not to pursue, is hard enough.
I rest in my own resolve: It will be good for me to walk away.
From myself; circumstances, like the clouds in the sky
(for on this day I live under a grey dome, the sun
a fuzzy and weak white ball) keep me from clear vision.
I need distance, perspective.
The sun shines in Boise Idaho, and while I want
To go walk there, joy is knowing
that the sun may shine again here, soon--and staying.
Endless sun becomes as oppressive as endless clouds
And the wise man can give thanks for the clouds.
I can't. My world still ends tomorrow.
I walk past the phi house lawn, see clearly
That to walk away
Is to become small; my life in context means little at all.
Funny how that works: joy hides in the most peculiar places.
And I most often find her in the search.
Not a search for joy, not exactly or necessarily,
But a search to know, understand, experience.
Life is full, even when, especially when,
I am empty. I want to spend three solid days
Studying the fuzz of a dandelion; or follow the flight
of a housefly: I'd like to learn nothing
And be happy. I've stopped walking, at least for now,
and wondered how many other things I could,
or even should, simply stop doing. Lying in the grass,
I see many things I have never seen. How
could I miss such things? I look up, wonder how
People walk so fast around me.