I followed the same path this morning.
Same carved, concrete path
start to finish, I lost about
a third of the sand that cascaded
through my hourglass.
I followed the trail of trees.
Their deciduous nature was
rushing the landscape in
a blaze of reds, yellows, and
oranges against the grey
skies that loomed above. A
crevice formed over time
from my footsteps
in the already fractured footpath.
I followed my way deeper into
a world poisonous to me. This
walk felt like an inoculation
of mercury that slowly sickened my soul.
It wasn’t bad, just bad for me.
I stepped into the center of the
Circle of Stones and wanted
to drop right in place. Gravity
weighed down on my sensitive nerves.
My muscles screamed, “Don’t go!”
as they atrophied in this skin.
My head said, “Keep walking,
you need to do this, it’s life.”
Still, I wanted to buckle in
the middle of the maroon circle.
I needed the safety of centuries
of invisible footprints whose destination
I will never know.