Porto, PT – Valenca, PT

Monday-Friday of last week

It would be the usual hike, so I thought,

starting out and arriving then,

and breaks, pit stops, and vesper

are for the weaklings.

And in a way it was just that,

from before dawn till dusk

and for all the kilometers we’d set out to conquer,

repeating itself over and over

and every day.


And in another way, this was no ordinary hike;

for one, symbols frequently marked our steps on either side,

lining the ground that so many others had trodden on

in search of their reasons for waking.

And while these elaborate icons today perhaps are dusty –

pointing at patriarchal politics in religion

rather than framing relationship at its core –

they still assist nature in revealing this:

that perhaps, everything is spiritual.


So as nightfall bears blisters and the blues,

which almost always accompanies

the slow building of spaces

for the immensities,

not much remains within the bounds certainty

aside from the fact that the sun, it will rise again,

hike up toward its zenith,

an roll on down and away.

Only the path also stays right here,

and, if we’re lucky, the ability to accept

that nothing comes from stillness

and everything from, well, that first step

and dancing and all movement else.