- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Silent Walk
Indulge in the poetry of a modern Master
I wave good-bye, and all that had transpired over the week before was brushed away. I say one final farewell, and the world before me changes, a drastic turn. Is it from cocoon to pastel wings, or glistening diamond to carbon dust? Views and reasons, steps and seasons seem to melt away as winter, love and life bid adieu. What causes necessity to breed separation? They seem an incompatible pair to this heart.
I stand to see my life away, to kiss my Mother and Grandmother good-bye. Hugs so tight to imprint the memory of our love within my fiber. The dampened eyes of togetherness torn apart by fate, turn away. They walk toward the airplane, and turn to enter the tunnel leading to the vessel of their future and my past. I cannot help but chase the shadows fleeing in between the bodies of the rest of the world. I peek over heads for one last glimpse. I see some grey hair, some blonde, a patch of clothing, then gone. Not much to hold onto through the lonely days and nights that are my life.
The corners of my eyes fill to overflowing as I walk the long, silent walk back to my car. The tumult of other lives happening around me fades into the periphery, as I see only the marble tiles before me. The concrete only listens, as I slowly drag my melancholy soul through the parking lot. A slouch into the usually comfortable Honda seat brings more pain - the surrounding space vacant of any sense whatever. No laughter, no smiles, no tears but my own, no love.
The over-clouded mountains rise on the horizon, somehow smaller today. Their faded majesty still dwarfs the city at their feet. My city. Our city. I know no one in it anymore. I look above and see the sorrowful vapor trails of jets both bringing together and tearing apart. Today, I am one of the rendered, spilling my essence in a doleful wake. What good is the city when it only provides diversion until the day the jet comes my way again?
Why must families separate? Is this common only today, or has it always been? Children go off to school, brothers and sisters strike out on their own, parents die, or remarry and move away - too far for minimal currency to pave the way between. The question is, where does true happiness lie? It seems not in where we live, but with whom we love. The search for strength, independence, an individual identity lead to this wretched parting. And in the end, after we have traveled far and sweat greatly moving monumental blocks of struggle, we find ourselves home again, knowing now who we are and what we truly desire.
As we forget from where we came when leaving the womb of the universe, we spend our lives trying to remind ourselves. And as we leave each other into adulthood, believing that we cannot grow together, our memories fade of the strength of each other's arms. This begs another question. Do we gain more strength by individual struggle toward those goals placed before us by culture and society? Or by working, playing and loving together, a goal not man-made, but deep within a soul that yearns to find its way home?