“Nothing is a straight line

or even a labyrinth but a squirrelly maze

I trace and retrace almost every day

for whatever thoughts that might arrive

as I walk in circles,

truer circles described inside of circles, having learned

that I need to get lost, a parade of one,

to find my calling,

then lost again,

to find my own way home.”

Richard Cole, ” Walking in Circles”

I find a lot of comfort in these words, knowing that this labyrinth-like path is not out of the ordinary. I pretend this isn’t the case. I have crafted my reality into definable blocks, like we often do. These blocks become movements in which I sense that I am doing something, going somewhere, becoming someone. But there are lapses, pauses, breaks — that interrupt the fluidity that I so often crave.

I imagined this part of the labyrinth to flow smoother. I thought I had climbed past some walls already. I wish I could speed through this.

But I rake my fingers through the dark and green.

I can only walk slowly through this part.

spots of art:

Round and Round- Will Reagan

Metro Bilbao, Madrid
“Maravillas Acrósticas en el Jardín” Joan Miró, Galeria Fernández- Braso en frente de El Retiro