Footing it

As December dissolves into January, we look forward to the new year and a fresh start. But first, we take stock, which is not always an easy thing to do. To face. To see in all its glory and ugliness.

But we do. We are thankful for so many things. And we have regrets.

In a few days, we will enter a new year, on foot, carrying with us our dreams and nightmares and resolutions for new beginnings.

I’ve been mulling all of this in the year almost past, with the help of the great Chicago poet, Carl Sandburg.

So in that spirit, here is Sandburg’s The Road and the End.

I shall foot it
Down the roadway in the dusk,
Where shapes of hunger wander
And the fugitives of pain go by.

I shall foot it
In the silence of the morning,
See the night slur into dawn,
Hear the slow great winds arise
Where tall trees flank the way
And shoulder toward the sky.

The broken boulders by the road
Shall not commemorate my ruin.
Regret shall be the gravel under foot.
I shall watch for
Slim birds swift of wing
That go where wind and ranks of thunder
Drive the wild processionals of rain.

The dust of the travelled road
Shall touch my hands and face.