When I was a boy
The rolling hills of my soul
Were wide open.
For tromping about
Wild and free,
Unafraid of mistakes.
Tripping and falling.
Making cartwheels out of my humanity.
Then I got old and responsible.
I had to take care of things.
And slowly the rolling hills
Formed a mountain range called maturity.
I could scale the new terrain,
Emerging with deft skill.
Learning to balance over the increasing depth,
A party for the perilous.
However, a deep crevasse
Started diving ever deeper.
As global heat warmed the Earth
Now my mistakes were harder to access
and admit.
My defenses stronger.
A more bullish yet timid
Sort of character…
Ice rigid at times
Can form
Immobilizing
The need to move
With freedom
My pickax has to directly attack
This soft underbelly at the bottom
Of this deep cleft
making its way
Unknown scary wonder
A more fierce opening
Vulnerable thunder
Old self driven asunder
Heart beating like new
Again
Three generations of Jade Barrett’s family call Oregon home. Growing up in Eugene, he gathered memories of the Dunes, the Sea Lion Caves, Lincoln City, the Seaside Turnaround, and the Peter Iredale. Now living in the High Desert, he and his family often return to the ocean. Switzerland photo: www.terrydorvinenphotography.com
