After six decades,

how did I know so little?

 

I catch myself in

cellphone photographs,

cheek jowls still firm,

 

teeth bared, grinning

into the camera,

as if my problems were

invisible, nonexistent.

 

Behind me, a backdrop

of rivers and trees,

 

an endless spider web

of mountain trails

my spine could still navigate.

 

Meanwhile, a sky dome

hovered above, witnessing

everything I failed to see,

yet remaining silent.

 

I wouldn’t have listened,

anyway.  Eyes and ears

tuned to unconsciousness,

 

I walk the path, turn

my head for a moment,

and pose, while motion continues:

 

relentless, erasing my body,

blurring its lines like water.