Sunday, January 19, 2014

2013, Fourth Quarter, Seventh Selection


If I've ever gotten wiser,
it's when I've learned to
love the thickets, and
forgotten about the summits.

When I bushwhack my
arduous way, 
by loving the bushwhacking,
even coming to befriend
the bloody scrape of thorn
upon my skin.

And hesitate to leave those
scrapes behind,
even despite the old
familiar tingle of freedom,
making its deliberate way
into the back door of my
bloodstream, foretelling of
the magnificent clearing
just ahead.

Even then, I go for one
last circle through the brambles,
let thorns once more draw
the blood that
wards away hubris,
for good measure,
for the gods,
who appreciate thoughtfulness.

And finally emerge,
half pretending I haven't,
knowing it is nothing,
though loving,
with my whole force,
everything there revealed,
new and old and all,
and committing to it.    

--Brian Burke

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