A Heavy Bag and a Long Shadow
I carry a heavy bag and drag a long shadow.
In the place I am in, I can’t figure out if I am settling in or preparing for departure.
Just the same as everything else.
Not knowing where we are, who we are.
Stop! Let me get my bearings!
“Think on your feet!” they tell you, keep going, don’t stop.
Don’t ever stop. To stop is to be stuck, frozen, in hell.
Can you stop the earth from rotating?
I push, to stop it and my arms, my back, my mind, are aching from the effort.
To stop is to rebel against living.
On the intake of a deep breath I remember, you may rest.
I let the world go, and it rotates on without loss of momentum.
I rest, and move not my body but notice what moves around me.
The loveliest thoughts and sounds ride in on the breeze and then off into the distance.
I open my eyes and continue on, carrying a heavy bag and dragging a long shadow.
Maybe I don’t know where I am or who I am.
But maybe, I don’t need to know.
This is wonderful — both words and photo