We're All Just Walking Each Other Home

Inspired by Ram Dass

We are all just walking each other home,
to a soft porch light,

wherever that may be.

And if it is only for a moment,
tell me of the things you have learned to carry
as the world goes quiet,

save for our footsteps.

And should we wander into places that know not our names,
I only ask to walk beside you
until the veins in the pavement become

familiar again.

And as the distance between our homes
becomes too great to ignore,
we quietly acknowledge
the room our words have made for goodbye.

“This is me” and "I'm this way"

give way to that peculiar pause,
as if another sentence might keep us together

a little longer.

somewhere behind me
a door gently closes.

and somewhere
a soft porch light greets you.

II. The Fruit of Joy

Sometimes I wonder
if trees mourn their fallen fruit.

Do they fondly remember
the weight of what they grew,
or grieve the absence
of what they could not keep? 

Do they know when to let go, 

or do they simply trust
that something sweet was worth growing?

Is grief an artifact of love,
or the fruit of joy?

Perhaps grief is the testament
that they were with us. 

And if grief is the fruit of joy,
I hope to live a life
with branches heavy enough to break.