As Morning's Dark Alarm Required

As morning's dark alarm required
I used to rise,
put on my old dysfunctions,
and walk him down the street.

His pattering claws ticktapped in counterpoint
to the squeaking of one shoe.
I considered the closing of my eyes to be
a safe alternative to wakefulness:
Surely my young dog would lead me
where I had to go.

Now, when shadows overlay
each other and the street,
and rolling, down the hill,
the ocean utters in the dark
a highway's thunder,
quiet but unending,
I remember in my bed.

What separates our past from now?
How far do we ever overstride
our disabilities? Those treasured steps
that brought us here can be retraced
without our knowing,
till once again we find that we walk blindly,
wearing what we thought we left behind.

Let us in our separate hearts
each thank and prize these weary days we travel,
for the teaching they provide us
and the distance they divide us
from the less we used to be.

March 17 2010