Soft Trail

Trails… little lines through forests… embrace connections, gather imprints, from hiking boot, the brave flip flop, the weekend tennis shoe. I’m not alone, but, there’s a separateness I can’t deny.

 My feet…clunky…bony things…bad negotiators of ground, stumbles into sunlight, with trees as easel, hangs portraits.

 Have I ever handled beauty well? My arms seem like slugs. My eyes unreliable. My organs are preconceived plans. I look at my shoes. Such pretty things, such perfect imprints.

 I’ve stomped upon dust, steered around mud. These paths tug upon my pulse, an ache. Even weeds are handsome anarchists. The soles of my shoes have been manufactured especially for this moment.

Yes, you’re on the trail. Somewhere ahead of me, sometimes behind. The way you run lures me. I recognize the shape of your naked foot. I think I’m in love with your lost.

 I drink your coldest water. My teeth throb. I’m wild, if only for a speck of time. I pull off my socks.


29 Comments on “Imprints

  1. I sometimes think, it’s that very layering of known and unknown truths that makes poetry so indispensable – yours carries that in so many surprising packages of pockets, bags, and maybe beneath the grasping fingernails we all must use – all the best, love your work! ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thanks so much Felipe! The words of mine you chose, contain so many truths, in ways I can’t fully explain. I wish I could. Then, it’d be easy. I am honored by your words.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I try not to let u pass when I spot u in the digital stream, Elan —

    Danced among ur lines from the lines between the trees to the moments the stars of words jumped and scattered in patterned pulses; loved this –

    “…The way you run lures me. I recognize the shape of your naked foot. I think I’m in love with your lost.

    I drink your coldest water. My teeth throb. I’m wild, if only for a speck of time. I pull off my socks.” ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Wow, that’s beautiful! And I love the photo. Did you modify the image yourself? It’s very cool! Cheers.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. “I’m not alone, but, there’s a separateness I can’t deny.” Love it, Elan. It’s hard to be alone anywhere nowadays, but occasionally we find a moment of solitude in a place where fairies dance in little patches of sunlight. Last line got me, too, wild, childlike, barefoot freedom tempered with a cold splash of reality. 🙂

    Liked by 4 people

  6. I have very high standards and am very impressed with this! Every few words demands rereading and reappreciation for different elements.

    “Little lines through forests” offers such an original view; the way the trail welcomes and embraces the diverse feet reminds me of how Nature can unify us; the feeling of being separate though not alone reminds me of how individual the walk is for each hiker; weeds being “handsome anarchists” connects with my unbiased, unconditional love of all nature and makes me champion the underdog; the “soles of my shoes have been manufactured especially for this moment” wonderfully unites manmade and the past with the natural and the present in a perfect moment of destiny; “in love with your lost” and the ghostly impressions of bare footprints running is the icing on the cake as you become momentarily as wild as nature itself by preparing to plummet in yourself. (Your amazing sound devices were not overlooked either.)

    A forever favorite in my collection. Thank you for using and sharing your gifts!

    Liked by 3 people

  7. Beautiful. I’ve been absurdly busy and forgotten to let myself absorb poetry. Such a lovely little break coming here to your page again.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. No…Imprints is just right. I mean the writing is a lovely stream – visually – the imagery flows like water, as it must, to be honest…

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I too found this to be one of your best interpretations. Your photos (pictures) always invites us to explore with you…and now you have taken us there on foot. Awesome.

    Liked by 4 people

  10. Pain and beauty many times go hand in hand, I’ve found. But I go barefoot at least 90% of the time, even in the snow or burning sand, so my feet are used to it 😏.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Sometimes I wish I was barefoot. That wish is in the poem. However, being barefoot where the photo was taken might be painful. Isn’t that a paradox?

    Liked by 4 people

  12. This is really beautiful, thanks. If I can figure out how, I’ll share on twitter.

    Liked by 4 people

  13. Beautiful and invigorating … trees as easels holding portraits-in-the-making as imagination’s wild dreams take shape … all the while, feet on trail …

    Liked by 4 people

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