She bares her feet,
uncovered, exposed.
Her legs uncurl, straighten.
It is dark, cold,
early in this new day, month, year.
Familiarity tells her there is a surface,
a cold, hard floor on which to land her feet.
She’s done it thousands of times, yet
Yet this new day, this first day
is so full of mysteries
and the void of knowns gives her pause.
For had she known one year ago,
what happenings that year would bring …
and yet,
Yet, nothing could be
… can be known in advance.
There is no security in knowing what a previous year might bring,
that cold, hard surfaces would become shaky,
that knowns would become unknowns,
that death and life can take your breath away.
As her toes touch down, uncertainty remains.
She moves her foot forward,
dropping down, slowly, silently.
tiptoeing across the cold, flat surface.
A new year,
like that floor,
unknown, empty, flat and cold.
We take our first steps, slow and cautious,
toes vulnerable, bared …
bared to whatever they might encounter.
She knows there is a hard surface on which to land,
days, hours, minutes, seconds
Yet … what will fill them?
Meals, activities, work, sunsets and sunrises
laughter and tears.
tears … this is the unanticipated, undesired bump in the night
as we cross the threshold of a new year.
For what will bring the tears?
And yet, what will bring the laughter?
So, tiptoe my dear,
Cold and hard,
Shadowed and clear,
Eyes opened full,
Toes moving forward …
Forward, for … there is no other direction now to go.
itsawonderfilledlife 