Posted on October 11, 2019
by Elan Mudrow
She walks the old road, its surface malleable, as dirt reclaims its path.
Once a smoothness exited, now gone, curves vanishing, the wind, indeterminant.
Her bones feel like prisms, sharp angles, poking out of moving flesh, legs move with assuredness, tenderness.
The road has soft spots, where plants, alive and dead, scar its surface
Not necessarily an easy road to walk by foot. She’s careful. Always.
Her eyes move along its lines, reading its rough syntax, needles, bark, old flowers, wet upon the edges, a dark, moist shadow frames them all.
She places her hands flat upon a remaining level surface
Organic debris, a scree of thoughts stick to her.
She looks at her hands like opening a book
Then looks at the road, she can see the imprint of her hands.
How odd they look, their silhouette, alien.
It’s been a wet August, but it hasn’t really rained, not really.
Category: PoetryTags: Art, Author, Blog, Books, Life, Love, Photography, Poem, Poetry, Road, Writing
You, sir, are good! Hats off!
Memories. This reminds me of my own old but familiar paths… 🌟
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Your words take me to the morning walk I enjoy so much. They will satisfy my urge to be outside until the morning light arrives.
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Beautiful as always. Our bones seem sharper as we age and I know old paths I walked quickly down in my youth I must be careful now. Watching the road more than I’d like. I can envision you walking down a familiar path carefully examining everything along the way. Thanks for adding pictures it makes me think of all the wonderful places to walk in the Northwest. Love Joni
Very evocative. Rather than horror, I got more of a S.F. apocalyptic vibe.
Well that’s good to hear I’m not just flat-out missing what you wrote, entirely.
T.S.Eliot once thought the reader was part of the writing process, part of placing meaning into the representation of art. I agree and disagree. Some things have more than one side, more than one interpretation. That’s what good reading is supposed to do.
I’m not sure why, but reading it this came across almost as a horror poem? Even after just reading it a second time that’s the feel I get it. I like it, but for some reason that’s my take. From what I can see above in the comments, I’m missing something!
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MAGIC WORDS, CHINA
This told me a story about a life journey through many changing seasons that the road had weathered. Love the shadows in the photo.
Beautiful imagery, Ethan. I loved reading this.
Thanks. I had so many of them, it must have taken me two weeks to decide which one I wanted.
Love the last line.
Thanks my friend!
Felt I was right there! First with the unsteady feet on rough surface … and then: “Organic debris, a scree of thoughts stick to her.” (This story will stick with me. Thank you.)
Thanks so much!!
It would be a good road to walk with friends.
Beautiful! What a lovely picture.
Your gift for stories/ writing is spectacular.
Feel like walking on this road with a few very good friends reminiscing the long lost childhood…
It was a walk on the very same road you see that I photographed. Thanks!!
This is gorgeous. I’d love to know your inspiration!
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