I’ve spent hours walking rose quartz paths
Meditating on the bridge where
walking with naked feet
keeping an open heart
Both demand close attention to the environment.
If the mind wanders,
I cut my skin,
bump fragile bones.
With every step
The stones press their jagged edges into my flesh.
Nerve endings alight like fireworks.
I tread softly. No rush.
Protected feet power by mine, oblivious to the flavours of the land they cannot feel.
The sudden oasis of a patch of silky sand.
The cool water that licks my ankles.
The smooth volcanic wrinkles that warm my toes.
Protected feet walk blindfolded, focused on the destination – unaware of the journey.
Like prudent hearts, afraid of pain. Of breaking.
Like children afraid of the dark.
One thing I’ve learnt is
pain usually walks through the door bearing a gift of perspective.
I’d rather get the quartz’s lessons of
carved with sharp edges into my soles
Than lose my connection to the ground.