Broadside Contest Entrant #11: PAMELA SHEA

Trail Guru

I meet a trail guru wearing a worn, torn bandana,

With a handmade walking stick of which he is quite proud.

He smiles broadly as I hold it; no crowds pass as we chat

On this foggy autumn day with dust beneath our feet.

He speaks of broken glass. I remark how it returns to sand, from whence it came.

“No matter how special it was--that’s Zen” I say, 

“Just a matter of when all things return to their essence”.

The words surprise me as I speak them.

And so here we stand together, beneath majestic mountains,

Supposed strangers, but not really so.

“All things pass” echoes in wind.

Grass withers beside us, yet cheerful sunflowers dot the landscape.

This rugged land is being rejuvenated

One year after the fire passed through, raging and blazing.

These trails meander through foothills; up, down, and all around the mountains.

In winter and spring streams flow, making things grow, quenching the landscape,

But in summer and fall they are dry beneath sky’s heated expanse.

Paths dance and prance all year long, their songs guiding the seekers.

We all converge at the seashore to dive back into the primordial soup,

Swimming through black holes, across the universe, dissolving into oneness.

So, we must let go of earthly brokenness,

Embracing wholeness while it lasts.

We all move from womb to tomb,

Hopefully befriending strangers along the way,

Because danger is over-rated.

All things will return to their natural state

Of being, in non-being; the hidden and obscure

Can cure afflictions and addictions,

As attractions, alongside redactions, become meaningless,

Causing restrictions to melt away.

Do not mourn torn cloth,

Shattered glass, or dead grass,

For things pass and nothing

Ever remains the same.

Rains will come as sun rises,

Even if it is hidden.

All await returning with yearning, 

Sojourning through the process.

I too have become guru

And so can you!