I Will Point Myself | 12.29.20

Trapped in a valley, in a mountainous swath of land that can feel like a saucepan with a rattling lid, clouds like cover, repetition like heat to make me boil. So long now we’ve been stuck here, waiting for something new, waiting to begin living the life we spent so long working for. I know it’ll come, we all know this by now, but knowing sometimes doesn’t make things better, doesn’t soothe the ache. I’ve a heart built for jagged ragged shorelines and small boats bobbing in waves. I’ve a soul made for salt water, for sea birds calling in some dark fog.

I wonder sometimes if it’s the sea itself that calls me, or if it’s the untamed nature of it. Is it wildness that calls me home? In landscape, in weather, in another human being?

I am called to the wild, to the wilderness of this human condition, and I always will be. Perhaps it’s because it’s what I am made from, perhaps I feel the pull.

At untamed landscape

and ferocious surging sea

I will point myself.

Haiku on Life by Tyler Knott Gregson


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