A week of leaving (part 1)
Have an adventure
in early spring if you can,
go somewhere un-signposted
someplace you’ve only heard about
through word of mouth or read about
in the chronicles of shamans.
Take a guide who was once there,
say twenty years ago,
whose eyes still shine a little
when he speaks of it,
trust that his mind map is linked
to his heart, be open to getting lost –
it could be part of the story
that sustains you
when nothing else will.
Permit children to follow,
to sometimes lead.
Begin in a fairytale forest
of beech trees, taking note
of yellow and purple flowers,
moss covered boulders,
life shooting through decay.
The terrain will be uneven,
adjust your gait accordingly.
Allow yourself to sink a little
now and then, embrace gravity.
You will pass through vast areas
of tiny rock-stacked altars,
take a moment to build one yourself,
it does not matter that you do not know why.
For the sake of this adventure, accept
the memorial to visitation as fact.
If the opportunity presents itself
swing from tree vines, climb a waterfall.
When you arrive at your destination
you might want to do something
to mark the occasion,
it has already been done –
the first bead in a necklace of poems
you will make then give away,
the first part of leaving begun …