Stacking rocks for a roadside memorial on Highway 76 up to Chimayo this morning, I wondered which truck would lose control and wildly meld its’ tires to the road in an attempt to stop. Would I jump, startled, and the unfolding of my knees and legs save my life? Or would I look up without fear and watch the metallic wall fill my vision?
When I was 6 years old I was washed out to sea on the backs of galloping waves. There was no narrative, only sound and form and evidence that the World Works in Mysterious Ways and there is no controlling it.
Gomen nasai, innocence.
When I was 17 years old I traversed the ridge of the Sandias for miles and miles. The blue china bowl stretched around me forever and the freedom it gave made me feel closer to the earth. Where I used to step without fear now I tread with hesitation.
Gomen nasai, once confident soul.
When I was 23 years old I fell in love with someone who wasn’t capable yet of such a thing, and instead of joy my whole life filled with suffering. I learned to hide my dreams far inside the caverns of my chest, where no one could see them. Because of this I cannot dive deep enough to retrieve them now.
Gomen nasai, dreams.
When I was 27 I lost the one person I loved most on this earth. Because I miss the love of my mother, I have closed my heart. I have become incapable of accepting true love, and there are no tears that can atone for it.
Gomen nasai, broken heart.
Now I step carefully, choosing each foothold knowing there is no truly steady rock beneath. Such is life.