...arrive,
firmly planting
into our soul
a sole of another kind...
...standing,
waiting
near the grasses
and suddenly
the eye is caught
and we are taken unaware
by their expectation
of our coming
and the very power
in their silent wait.
Gathering
all that is necessary,
all things required
to stride forth
across the courtyards
of decision
and mount
the means
that takes us through,
that lifts us, saddled grandly,
up to the highest perch
where we can see our world
flowing smoothly
into the morning light...
Ready, poised,
taut with all the knowing
of things that we must do
and places filled
with danger all unknown
where life itself
can lie
balanced on the toe
of just a single foot
and one slip only
could send us plunging
backward on the icy surface
of our life
or rolling, tiger-chased,
into arenas thick with dust
and the unfeeling roar of crowds
as we brace against
the onslaught
fighting our way forward
through the clouding dust...
feeling lost
and tired of battle,
footsore and weary,
with our boots aside
and the pain of fighting
rising up our legs
and all around us see
and think
we have folded to the ground
and stand chained
in places we have no wish to be.
But in our very nakedness
we find all that was lost
and gird ourselves again
shod once more
in strength,
striding quickly
along the bloodied planks
amidst the sounds
and all the sights and smells...
taking our turn
at falling
and walking through the mire
...yet...we have a certain confidence
in the direction of our way
and know that leaps
are part of life
as well
and that there will be times
of quiet, simple walking,
times to pause
beside the fireside
and let the warmth
comfort gently
like summer sands,
soft between our toes...
and rest comes to us
on spring-filled afternoons
where standing motionless
the full circle of our life comes round
and we have come from standing
where the poppies lie,
red-carpeted about our trembling feet
to standing, polished,
upon red carpets of another sort entire.
Jo Anzalone