Although I’m seated, now, I want to feel
long muscles in my legs stretch to spring
me forward. I want to move so quickly
that air cools my face. No fear of distance,
calculating both the journey and return.
I have appetite and courage in my heart.
Why can’t I climb the stairs?
Lift the air conditioner, laundry, walk
the dogs? I desire world to lead me,
the flying mountains aching in my chest.
Even though I’ve always wanted rest,
I would accept that I might never get here,
wishing I could just embark. I’m standing
at the top of hills above my town, listening
to the wind’s unrest. The ocean beckons me.
I’m itching for a voyage, my memories
behind me, pushing forward just as if
the world was round. I would reach for home
ahead of me, waiting only for Penelope,
relishing the memory of smooth floor
beneath my feet, windows full of promises,
standing in a doorway, feeling rain.
Could these trees transport me? Let
the fireflies invite me out to dance.
With my grandson in my arms, I waltz
to show him sunshine traveling years
to touch him, to listen for its voice.
I want life as vivid as my dreams.