At first light, the day dazzling.
Mt. San Miguel, my neighbor for five
years now, stands massive against
a vivid expansive space, a sky blue
and vaster than Buddha’s belly.
Underfoot at the base, an uneven
field, tufted, inviting, of green
grass sprouting. Suddenly, this
ground billows, opens for my
delighted legs, they sway unsurely--
then stepping boldly, almost drunkenly
do I sail eagerly over such bumpy
topography. After the long trek
straight up a steep path of red earth,
rock-strewn and difficult today, I rest
on a flat rock. Streaming sweat coats rarely
worn sunglasses, obscures what could be
seen, but blurs not what we’ve traveled
through these past months and years.
Both legs begin to burn, I’m moving upwards
toward a lone yucca, a marker, sentinel
for the journey. Mountain peak closer now,
grateful for some progress, it beckons and
teases as canyons hidden in deep shade
on either side of this seductive ridge flank
and protect the first day of the new year,
while this blessed sharp soothing breeze chills,
caresses, and nibbles at my salty wet skin,
awakens easy this tired thankful body.
A little relieved, I decide it’s time to turn around
as the pink sun begins its slow silent descent into
the golden sea beyond Point Loma’s bony finger,
as I too, ready and yet not ready for what’s to come,
mouth parched and thirsty for the uncurtained
future, relinquish thoughts of the peak and head
downwards into the dawning darkness towards home
and the welcoming, uncertain arms of this first evening
of a new year. The first year without your laughing eyes
and kind, lilting voice that have offered me so many
gorgeously wild, colorful vistas.
Just as I didn’t quite reach the top of San Miguel today
my dear, the hidden peak of a leukemia cure finally
eluded us, those two brave and wholehearted hikers,
scared and loving partners who did live robustly through
it all, and shared such dark descents and lofty inspirations
high above the covering clouds, elevating each other so very
often and yes, so damn powerfully shouldering an unknown
load on our arduous, almost indescribable, four year journey,
sometimes stumbling sometimes floating, within a winding
pathway of great gray angular boulders, unpredictable weather
and the most delicate, feathery wildflowers.
No comments:
Post a Comment