My legs are tired.
\nWhat makes them tired?
\nThe street shows no trace of wear
\nfrom my walking.
\nI have never asked them
\nto do more than they can.
\nBut standing up they ache
\nlike losing one\u2019s voice
\nbefore you speak.<\/p>\n
It is perhaps what a bird feels
\nafter a long migration.
\nGoing south, as if winter
\nwon\u2019t follow.
\nAs if time, weighing nothing,
\nnever carries a burden.
\nEvery second falling to the bottom
\nof an hourglass like a grain of sand.
\nChildhood flying in the sky
\nwingless.<\/p>\n
A young man, and I carried
\neasily the burden of others.
\nMature, I looked from windows
\nto see the weather.
\nI began to linger in the garden.
\nNow I carry a bag of dreams.
\nI am ready to go to high country,
\nwhere I can carry the vastness
\nbelow,
\nand say to myself,
\nI\u2019ve been there.
\nIt is where I lived.
\nWhere I belong,
\nbut my legs are tired.<\/p>\n
The summit grows higher.
\nThe view more spectacular.
\nI take a deep breath.
\nI sit and put my chin
\non my knees.
\nLove keeps following,
\nand I wait for it.
\nMy legs are tired.
\nI tell them,
\nthank you for bringing me.
\nI want to see everything
\ninside my soul,
\nwhere all the loving
\nstill goes on.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My legs are tired. What makes them tired? The street shows no trace of wear from my walking. I have never asked them to do…<\/p>\n