Walking a Path

Walking a path
for miles
back and forth
carrying school 
books since I was
a little girl.

I walked this road
sometimes running,
sometimes skipping,
sometimes in tears.

I knew every tree
I ate many
apples and blackberries
on my way.
I tripped over a stone,
and skinned my knee
when I was eight.

After years away
I walk this path
once again.

I lay down
my bag, heavy
with car keys, 
wallet, glasses, and I
sit on the dirt in
mid-afternoon.

A caterpillar,
green and curious
peers out from
a leaf.

A robin hops near-
my heart strains
for the caterpillar-

and I realise
I have never seen
this path at all.

This poem came upon reflecting on ‘looking deeper’. The idea that I might see the same thing for a certain way for years, even, and one day- see something else in it. It’s a hopeful and rich feeling for me- looking deeper- but as a friend said upon reading this poem, I could never go back to the same path. True, I think, and that thought made me pause, silent for awhile.

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