Healing is a feline
treading stealthily around the concrete monoliths
of the neighborhood –
slow and lazy
A striped tow of light,
sheaves of color falling from the trees,
from the November
and gathering in little pools
in your heart
to glitter in the dark
I took my sadness for a walk.
I walked it right out of the park, past the tram stops and onto
the streets flooded with the slow, hesitant steps of old age.
I walked and walked and walked it out of my body.
Then I walked some more with it like one walks with a walking stick
until it got blunt.
Popov the Clown died yesterday.
Popov the Clown used to say, ‘as long as you have somewhere to go,
you’ll live another day.
But when you don’t know where you’re going tomorrow, you’re nearing
So I walked. Walked my sadness. Showed it the way.
And after just about enough walking,
I felt invigorated and could stand again.
So I set it free like a helium balloon and said, ‘Go now.
make the trees red. My eyes have cried enough.’
It’s late. It’s November.
A tiny airplane inches forward across the spotless blue sky.
And the sun bathing my face is a thing of beauty.