and we did have joy
by Steven McCabe
When roadblocks appear.
Roads go to funny places.
One returns to a place.
I remember you burned the soles of your feet during coal walking at the weekend seminar.
Somebody stole your expensive Turkish sandals and replaced them with flip flops.
You didn’t stop walking.
We discovered a comet fallen to the sidewalk.
And then a colourful one.
You were afraid it would burn your feet.
You said my skin had cracked.
I touched my arm. It felt
Like a fallen column in the library at Alexandria.
Though not as old as a comet.
As old as the sidewalks put in after WW2.
On the roads that go to funny places.
Where you walked and kept going
After I stopped.
*
and
we
did
have
joy
*
poemimage 
Very poignant. A love story and a parting of paths. The soothing sameness of the green lends continuity to the memory.
Good to see you back, Steve!
Thank you Elana. ‘Sameness of the green’ sounds like a good title for something! Yes it’s good to be back in the saddle!
Re: “…green”: We heard it here!
There’s paradox in the ‘magic’ of green–in that it’s the result of the darkest and the lightest colours. How these poles unite to produce the colour that’s easiest on the eye, and also has more variants than any other colour. So to me the ‘sameness’ of your green imagery is a wonderfully nuanced complement to the joy and bittersweetness of your poem, Steve. Also a fitting parallel to the surprising verbal turns.
A very interesting way to describe the colour green Elana and connect intrinsic colour values to the poem. Turn every corner and green. It is a paradox as a colour! Sometimes achieving opposite effects emotionally at the same time. Bittersweet is a profound word for this. Thank you for this insightful spur to recognizing green.
It is good to see and read this, Steven. I like the morph of the image from topographical landscape to a face at times to a silhouette. I like the arm like a fallen column in the library at Alexandria. Broken strength- its heavy duty- and so much invoked texture. Thanks, friend.
Thank you Jack. I”m following your eye scanning this geography & seeing the landscape anew and when I read your interpretation I see an inner purpose I might have written from but not known I was writing from. Thank you Jack and good to see you again.
‘You said my skin had cracked.
I touched my arm. It felt
Like a fallen column in the library at Alexandria.’
Grateful to be starting my Thursday with this!
Thank You,
~Heather
Thank you very much Heather. I’m glad that word grouping struck a chord. Nice to see you again.
whole new approach – i like it steve…
Thanks very much William.