each day nothing
but a long trudge ahead
in terrain
that enters the senses
with the decisiveness of poured water
on achingly-dry ground
here, just east of the namib
no electronic stimuli
no artificial flowers in this vase
called fish river canyon
each day, arising without resistance
with acceptance
of a world of rough beauty
of reliance on simple strengths
feet, flexing legs, back, breath
mind tapered to a focus
horizon morphs … approaches & retreats
it is my friend and fearsome challenge
momentarily, eyes burn
as sweat trickles
then eyes soothed
in cool streams & shade
occasionally, on yielding sand (moist from waters beneath)
by river’s edge
our feet sink deep prints
– my dust-laden companions & i
clouds drawing & redrawing patterns
on bits of large blue sky
lines on sand, on flat rocks, on tree markers
geometric flows, sharp turns, lines, fine edgings
in river reflections
i watch cliffs
that observe me for brief or prolonged moments
then drift by
through the valley of bare essentials
i made my way
from treacherous descent at hobas
on and on for five and half days
toward the end point of to ai ais
across boulders, sand, dank clay, occasional steep climbs
through valleys of deep thought
alongside stiff shrubs
that snag cloth & scratch the skin…
with decisiveness of poured water
on achingly-dry earth
the terrain enters the senses
each day nothing – and everything