On the drive to Soaring Eagle state park

The same old men walk the streets at the same time each day

Through the fog and birdsong, the runners in their new sweats

And the world for what they see is mainly gray, for they look inwards

They walk the streets with their heads down as if they carry the weight of their whole past

And now I have come to do the same, to walk the trails and to lose myself

For that is what it means to be a man, it seems.

And though it would seem so simple, to lose or to let go is hard

For we carry the weight of all we have not faced or allowed ourselves to feel

And for that we are at odds with ourselves, unsure what parts are really us

And which parts are just feelings, meant to pass through

Categories: poetry, writing

Tags: ,

11 replies

  1. This registers! I need to find a trail to walk – been doing a mile loop through the neighborhood which works for the physical benefit – but mostly missing the connectivity you’re suggesting. (Thanks for the nudge – probably worth a short drive to get to one of the area’s nature trails.)

    Liked by 2 people

  2. A sort of chiropractic for the psyche.

    Liked by 2 people

    • The splutter of the moka pot and then, immediately, Z dragged me away before I could say that I particularly liked those last two lines. They led me to that odd thought about chiropractic for the psyche, which was all I could write under the circumstances.
      The eternal jockeying between ID, Ego and Superego was also in my mind as a result of final words to one of my clients yesterday, basically about being kinder to his self…
      Anyway, my thoughts now completed. A fine piece, thank you Bill.

      Liked by 2 people

      • Lovely! Here’s to thoughts completed. And thoughts for what they’re worth! Everything in its right place, eh? Prick not a wound or some such. Happy to play table tennis with you here, old sport. Thanks for being you!

        Liked by 2 people

  3. Shades of gray indeed, but now this has me thinking how there’s a whole spectrum within that one color.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Nice! A long line of gray men disappearing off into the grayness. Reminds me of a Shelley poem from college days “…my human mind, which passively Now renders and receives fast influencings…” Cheers from Milwaukee

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Love this, Bill: “. . . we are at odds with ourselves, unsure what parts are really us/ And which parts are just feelings, meant to pass through.” So resonant.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi Stacey and thanks! Doing a lot of work on this as a family, to understand how to best work with feelings. Happy it resonated with you and thanks for letting me know! Hope you’re doing well.

      Liked by 1 person

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