One foot in front of the other

This poem was written about an experience I had on the fourth anniversary of Barry's death. I went for a hike alone that day and, though it was a huge effort to make it to the summit, I felt a deep sense of reconnection as I sat and soaked it all in.

One Foot in Front of the Other

May 29, 2006 – 4 years

I needed to move, but it was so hard.
I wanted to be somewhere, but I didn’t know if I could.
So I made my way to the base of a special mountain
and I put one foot in front of the other.
There was every reason not to -
deep fatigue, spent emotions, sore muscles,
aching heart, excessive heat, dark clouds.
But to the summit I went in spite of it all.
There I was looking down at a place
on the other side of the lake
where I had met the man who helped me be whole,
helped me believe in me,
became my mirror, my anchor, my saviour.
There I was sitting in that beautiful spot
on the very day when, four years earlier,
my life had changed again -
the day when he left and never came back.
As I looked over the valley,
messages from nature were spread before me.
The sky had become blue in many places,
but there was a haze on the horizon.
The blue - the clarity I craved,
the haze – the confusion I felt so lost in.
There they were sharing the same sky.
The clouds made beautiful shadows
on the spring green valley below.
Greens that sparkled where the sun made it through,
hopefulness and sorrow sharing the same space.
Here and there in the valley were the lakes,
dark blue basins full of currents and movement.
I felt him so clearly with me that day,
remembering the bond that was forged
on the mountain, in the valley, by the lakes.
As I sat listening to the whispering of the wind
and the songs of the birds,
I felt a sense of hope, a sense of peace,
a sense of knowing that there would be other mountains to climb
and I would continue to find ways to
keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Sarah Carlson
December 17, 2006