Take small steps
I’ll guide you
At first
the path is rocky,
soles are not inured
to withstand the jagged edge
of freshly shattered razor shale
or to grip the slippery slopes that drop off all about.
At times I’ll lead and others I’ll follow,
to brace or bolster, to have or to hold,
depends on the slope, on the season,
the state of hope, the reason.
To leap from the edge, I’ve found
provides the smoothest sail,
without guaranteed soft land,
but was that ever on your mind?
Hold my wrists, my ankles,
I’ll billow, a chute to break your fall
from lofty aerie, along the way we’ll invert
and I expect that you’ll break mine.
Alighted, we tumble and roll
head over heels in meadows warm
dry of dew and scented, your heart’s potpourri
and sea; despite the sun we embrace to cease shivers
that swell from waking too fast, overload over joy,
the assertion we are at last!
Take long strides
I’ll guide you
The way from here is clear
and we are well shod to withstand
the bramble, crags, and frozen streams,
wild things that scream in the dark, they scratch
too close about us, all that’s a mere bag of shells;
we’ve million-mile tread, whetted blades, provisions for two,
skilled in what-comes-first-aid, knowledge of the trail,
but let’s not let that stop us
to exit the path
now and then.
© Chagall 2013
Alphabet City 