“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
