The following poem is a collection of small writing pieces created along our 3 day trek through the Himalayas.
The orange clay like earth beneath my feet feels nice. It’s as if the soil moves according to you, its confidence determined by the rain. My skin is cool and damp, easily noticed as it sticks against the sleeves of my raincoat. It’s hard to tell if I’m wet. Small tokens of remembrance weigh down my coat pocket, bouncing off my leg every step I take. This pilgrimage of purpose is shared among my peers but I’m far enough ahead to feel alone. My peace is a solo journey, quiet in its nature. Being alone with my wandering thoughts give an exaustion past the physical. My mind meanders as my breath struggles to keep up with my physical ambition. This trail is a place of mindful recovery, challenging only when you make it. As the sky clears to reveal the mountainous silhouettes, blankets of fog disappear past the horizon. Timid expressions peer through cracked window sills. Locals unsure about our presence. Evenings of thin fog and wood fired stoves fuel my ambition. There’s an understated appreciation for what we are provided here. These thin walls determine our choice of language. This mattress feels nice. I’m tired. The journey has been enough. I’m ready for the destination.