this is what it feels like to walk in the valley
The sound of water running over stone. Centuries of rock. A tree grows horizontally out from the side of the mountain. A dragonfly flickers out of the mist, darts over the purple heather. I am so still. Finally my sadness can find me. It makes a cave in my stomach. It makes a fist in my solar plexus. It is sad but peaceful. It only wants me to listen, to know that it is there. Later, in the wood, there is a stone doorway, remnants of a folly, I suppose, overgrown with ivy, mildewed, dying. Mindfully, and making invocations to my gods, I step through the doorway. It is a different world on the other side, if one comes through the right way. I think I have done it. This is what it feels like to walk in the valley.
