Moon Over the Tenth Day of Walking
for the Starship Edwardprise
Now you have arrived in Santiago after a long walk down a dirt path, down a pine needle path, down a path of stone, banana leaves, concrete, sand, pebbles,
under bridges, through tunnels, over hills, between towns, next to lakes, meadows of cows, pastures of horses, olive tree groves, growling
dogs, homeless cats, in and around forests of tall, thin white trees, of thick trunked, plush dark green canopies, with light glittering through, of golden fields brushed by wind. Now you can finally stop moving your feet and disregard the Spanish
sun. Eventually, you will go back to pretending that time matters, that there is past and future, that there is money to be made. But for now forget about limping along with burnt arms, hobbling past houses made of stone, built by hand, as the surrounding beauty eclipsed the suffering of your body. Now you know,
on this path, youth becomes old, with each step, and the old become new, with their accumulated wisdom of learned pacing. But forget all that
now, as the final day closes. Take a breath and recognise how much ground was covered in just ten days, half a country, and recognise the subtle corner of this complicated life that became just a little easier, and just a little harder in ways you couldn’t have expected, and do not judge anything but come back
to your old self slowly, with just a little more of your well filled up, a hidden font for some time later, to draw upon when things become hairy again.