Finding the Light like a Crow’s Flight (December 2013)
I live in the shadow of my own dream,
For days and days I climb over mounds of
Buried plans, mud-sliding under my feet,
A giant excavator is pouring,
Obstacles of truth, and my boot gets stuck,
Just like a child at play, I leave the boot,
Now wallowing in piles of ideas,
And so filthy, I cannot go to school,
A mess, marked by the mire of the shadows,
Going back to retrieve my sure-footing,
What would the classmates say, or the teachers?
‘Just go home son, and come back tomorrow’,
This is not a choice for me now, adult,
There is no tomorrow, only here and now,
Covered in half-baked mud and crud, I rise,
Can you question the state of the worker?
Fresh from the job, in constant toil, no rest,
Make no assumptions with all I have seen,
I climb to the top of the slope, grabbing
The roots of trees hanging where mud erodes,
Scrambling for the light of my goals and dreams,
My fingernails thick with dirt, I climb up,
And soon lay past the treacherous incline,
Panting, gasping, sweaty, covered in grime,
Sit up: look for the success of such steps,
A full forest shields the light I look for,
Dense woods, cedar and pine scraping the sky,
I can hear the echo of my own hopes,
I walk through grass and brush,
The fierce scolding of a crow reaches me,
The sun sets far beyond tangled forests,
It is getting late – I will take no chance,
The dark forest may go on endlessly,
I wait for the moon to tell the future,
I have been right: tomorrow does not begin,
I sleep in the wilderness with dark dreams,
In the morning, the sun rises again: today,
Steam follows, orange, and magenta skies,
Even the shadows hide, on my day of thoughts,
I am free to search the forest for truth,
Even to look far for the other side,
Today I tread over mulch, branches and leaves,
Skip across creeks, and reach down to taste cold water,
Wash my face in the mountain run-off,
Try to make sense of it all, and build plans,
What will I do with the light and the night?
Who will be the guide: the sun, moon or stars?
When the path is a reflection, like in the moon,
Is our shadow more awake?
Or do we live in pure form, as we always follow the sun?
As the truth builds mountains: can we climb through?
Or climb over, respected for the work,
We make our decisions wise each day,
Dreams hold clear ties to the light,
and follow the crow’s flight