Wednesday, January 12th, 2011...12:02 pm
Regression / Hiking the Dunes
A Random Act of Poetry for Marcus Goodyear’s prompt at The High Calling: “write a poem about one of your struggles, but be gentle with yourself.” (See Marcus’s entire post here.)
These dunes are really a horde of orphans,
every grain of sand abandoned, dropped off here
by its mother, wind, who only carried it
as far as the mountain she wanted to climb.
Like an out-of-place sidekick of the Rockies,
these dunes make a landlocked beach
nestled by Sangre de Cristo majesty,
these dunes like a child sitting
at the feet of Him whose blood named
I hike these dunes only in the early morning
before the sun turns helpless sand into flames
that can cover and cook my bare feet.
I step up the slope, but this is sand, after all,
and I slide down though the step I took
was up (it really was). I’d rather hike
a firm mountain trail where, on solid earth,
one step forward really is.
But now I’m on sand, this unsupportive ground
always shifting under me.
Is there a trick to getting over
the discouragement of dune-hiking?
I hope that with every one step forward,
it’s less than one step back.
At least I know, when I’m on my way back,
the sand that slowed my dune-hiking
will make soft landings for the downhill
dune-jumping thrills, and the return trip
will be smooth and speedy.