[Editor’s Note: This Community Voices piece is a poem by Angie Funtanilla.]
Returning
I want I might inform you what it means
to really feel the acquainted crunch underfoot,
to carry the foot, plant,
carry and plant once more, pivot
to propel this vessel by area,
by the Winter air, over the slippery roots,
the smashed golden, orange and purple leaves,
on high of soppy needles and damp Earth.
to swiftly sweep by the pleasant ferns and jump over
newly fallen angels,
contact their mossy flesh with my hand as if to say,
“It’s okay, now.”
To push off forefoot on an incline, really feel the total stretch of calf muscle, faucet dance my manner by haphazard scattered roots, to know my proprioceptors are in rhythm and on level.
To zig and zag on a switchback
Hear the beating of my coronary heart,
The respiration of my lungs,
The quiet falling rain
To see the Firs, the Oaks,
Associates I’ve missed for months
Associates who’ve patiently waited for my return,
Who might need questioned, “the place’s this one been?”
To bop and pressure and play
After which pressure once more all within the title of
Love, of irrefutable, magical and requited love
I want I might inform you what it means.
