Uneven Ground - Aug 27 2024

 

Uneven Ground

Aug 27 2024

It’s not so much getting used to it.

The stink of exhaust.

The concrete

radiating heat.

The press of bodies

on every side

until you feel you can’t breathe.

People

in an endless stream

with elbows out and eyes on screens,

shouldering you aside

without a simple sorry.

Not even a nod

to acknowledge you exist.

It’s more that I blocked it all out.

It’s that I numbed my senses.

Focused-in on straight ahead.

And with my blinders on, and a lethal stare

detached,

so the horde became dehumanized;

objects

placed in my way

simply to obstruct.

So when I found myself alone

in a cool glade

with nowhere else to be,

I felt not only replenished

but overwhelmed.

Oblivious

to the buzzing insects and chirping birds,

the gentle breeze

that stirred the leaves 

and cooled my face,

the earthy smell of early spring

in that first pungent thaw.

The senses I’d let atrophy

until they were numb,

had armoured

until they were impervious

were drowned in the flood,

so unaccustomed had I become

to subtlety and nuance.

Instead of used to it

I was deadened;

no colour got in,

and only the most insistent sounds

could intrude on my attention.

I was an automaton

who walked without intention;

never having to spot

where the path angles off

or crosses another,

never looking down

at uneven ground

to check for roots and rocks

and rotting logs

to hop or dodge or rest on.

Never paused

and simply ignored the throng;

a river rock

water flows around.

Never stopped

to take a deep breath,

expanding

into all the space

I no longer had to share.

And never slowly exhaled

to the last gasp of air;

all the way

until all my cares

emptied out with it.