i am walking

I walked out of my mother's belly, stretched

and ripe like a globe, and headed straight out

the door. She howled when the door unhinged

made aware that I had taken off with the wind.

I was no longer hers but of myself. I walked on.

A tattered flag waved me into an old building

where I found a compass with no hands but had

God's face, drawn in thick webs and numbers.

And I walked on. With beasts long gone, along

riverbanks with empty bellies, along seashores

beaten by tempestuous black water that tossed

my father's memory at my feet. I kicked the

bony remains toward the craggy footpath which

led me to a clearing where upturned roots wailed

at the sun that hung too low and vultures gaped

at the gathering clouds. I wove my way through

the mordant air and onto dunes of silver and

gold where haloed scorpions sang of deliverance

that seduced my loins but which made me walk

on. On and on. Past burning crosses and children

with genteel smiles and big guns. Past blobs of

bright colors outlined with grief, past the ghosts

of great men, that drifted like flashbacks of

things that were and things that will never be.

And still I walked on. My numb feet toiled and

bled, crushing rotting fruits, fists of flesh and

fragments of glass which showed me images of

the fires of hell and my first love. The visions

made me weep tendrils that did not flower, for

dreams that would not come. And so I walked on.

Past the cold pavement and colder shoulders.

Past neon lights that whimpered in the dark. Past

the seconds, past the minutes, past the hours,

past the days that forgot to unfold. But still I

walked on, and on, and on. Past crossroads,

past dead ends, past the streets on my hands.

I walked past your house, buried in deep ashy snow,

round the bend, caged in picket fences. I heard

echoes of your laughter as I passed. It smelled of

distant summer rains which weakened my knees

for a moment but did not make me pause. I walked

on. I am walking still. But slower now, with each

ragged breath, for I see in the pale distance, like a

forgotten lore, the place that delivered me. I feel

the warmth of the flame from her heart on my skin,

etching a shadow of a quiet smile on my wrinkled

and battered face despite the broken bones and

my dying soul. I know now why I went walking and

am walking still. To crawl back inside my mother's

womb, my paradise on earth, before they bury me.