poetry and photography by martina gordon
The bittersweet feeling of realizing you are at the end of something but have not quite enjoyed the journey to get there. Finishing anything is always rewarding in itself. Being able to end something feels like an accomplishment, but it can also feel so absolute. Sometimes it is hard to imagine your life apart from the path you have taken and when something ends – what path do we now take? Is there even a path to take? This poem encapsulates the reimagining of a new path, because, as I am slowly learning, there is a place after our endings – we just have to carry ourselves there.
It is not always enough to depend on the wind to carry you.
To blow you to places you want to go
But cannot bring yourself – cannot will yourself there.
Each step seems harder than the last
and each destination further than the first.
Look how freely the leaves seem to find themselves a spot on the ground
Or a flower a place to bloom.
Which place do I belong to?
No one ever told me it was okay to turn around, To leave this world behind when I did not know where I was going.
Is it too late for me? On clear nights, I cannot watch the moon
As she lives in solitude and not be jealous.
She seems so immune to the chaos down here.
I will wander until I find a space where my heart can feel light
And my mind free to roam.
A space that feels as revitalizing as the sun’s rays on a summer day
And as expansive as a flowing stream.
Where limit is not a word that exists nor a criterion to be met.
A place where everything can be reached.
A place the wind cannot carry me, a place I must carry myself.