Sometimes I walk

1.

Sometimes I walk

in sadness,

hear the absence of footsteps

by my side,

and my sorry self weeps

for its sorry self.

Oh woe, woe.

The mourning dove chants

its saddest song:

there will be days like this,

where we travel from dawn to dark

on memory's brooding tide.

Sing, it says.

Sing into the silence.

Breathe into it

the feathered hope

you thought was lost.

2.

Sometimes I walk

in anger,

hear the satisfying slap

slap

of my shoes

against the pavement,

avoiding insect life,

but squashing imaginary foes

into flattened images

of themselves, their mouths

wide open in a version of

"really?"

"Really", I reply.

You didn't see my soul

crouching in the corner

of my protective heart?

I didn't anticipate

the burn and sting

of shoe on hard ground,

or that this would be an act

of self-immolation.

3.

Sometimes I walk

in gladness.

My feet remember childhood,

the skip, jump and lope of it,

and I want to do crazy

and ill-advised.

I want to live in the wish

of bone balancing

on the edge of possibility.

Come,

come with me;

let us live

one more time

in the joy

of being.

4.

Sometimes I walk

to listen

to the tock, tock

of world's metronome,

to the unseen tree

fall,

to the rush of wind

in my ear, fleet,

and fleeting.

I hear green leaves clap,

clap their hands,

and if you can imagine,

to earth asking if it can have

the next dance.

5.

Sometimes I walk

to meet the tragic actor

who is me,

to witness

the action on a stage

where everything is moving

and alive,

even the dead, who knew me best,

and the torn-to-pieces-hood

of all my lives

gathers in a singularity

to companion me.