Breath is cold as I stare at my boots

Preparing for the inevitable

The mystic journey of my life

 

I am not ready for the once easy trek

Travels that took me far and wide

Without complication or trauma

 

Hills to cross and crosses to bear

Remains to be discovered of deer

That hunger for their young

 

Violet horns and golden hair sweep

Through the tunnels of destination

Wherever that will be for me

 

The road not clear as it once was

Feet not so sturdy or confident

Yet none of that really matters

 

Water is plentiful with fish of all kinds

Gathering to feed and renew their young

As I now also come to feed my soul

 

Lake of the Valley glistens

The moon crests upon its breast

Heaves and weeps to light the way

 

Wings dip into its shore and search

For answers and sustenance

To carry life to its end or more

 

Each toe in the sand kicks rocks

By accident discovering mouths

That need food, promises to fill

 

My hike exhausts at best

Exhilarates at worst and

Cleanses my soul eternally

 

Wind captures the Lake of the Valley

Trees mourn their loss as gusts force

Roaming grasses to bend and flow

 

I bend and flow, too, as I see life

Pass before me and beyond me

Yet I am here on this trail forever

 

The trail guides me to where I should be

Air, water, and earth sound their trumpets

I listen and my boots move forward

 

— Victoria Emmons, 2014