Fine Powder Past
by Odin Roark

Mistakes
Oversights
Misjudgments
Flaws

So many snapshot-reflections

Tumbling down life-scape mountainsides,
out of control avalanches at times,
shearing off youthful innocence,
submerging stalwart tenacity until,
like trees engulfed in cold hibernation,
nature’s cycle rises through the cold,
eventually reappearing.

So too
The sequence of our aging
Brings renewed growth
Along with accepting the old

Such realization
Doesn’t take much

A subway ride can do it
Surrounded by myriad faces
You catch yourself
In a window reflection
“Is this me…finally?”

“Have I weathered through all that?
Those?
Them?
Me?”

A glance at your feet
shows roots as such,
still intact,
still able to transport new seedlings,
to spread,
sprout,
regenerate steadfast blossoms,
preparing another of life’s pollination
for wisdom’s quest.

And so it goes

Longevity needs
but nurturing,
embracing pain and laughter,
with the conviction
that its dichotomy is perfection

Being at such peace
allows the all of one’s life
to quietly become
a fine powder past;
a journey’s end--

for now.