Tarmac Meditations #194: For Reals, Bro’

Last week I did a three-hour meditation
on my past lives.
(no laughin’ matter).
I remembered tall grass,
rocks, wind.
Always wind.

Mountain fastness,
Frozen passes, river banks,
red with sunset.
Far off, the fires of home.

I am always not yet there.

These pasts remind me
that there are markers to follow,
Pathways in the foothills, the blowing grass, past misted lakes,
Now I am born Wolf.
I am so very tired.

The sun was gone when I wakened
to an uncertain night.
My guide asked me what I had learned.

I told her that in the beginning,
as in this fleeing moment,
I am here alone.

I step into the relentless now.

Image Credit

Photos by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.