His back was curled, bent
arthritic hands, knees swollen from
carrying the load on his back.
He had been up this road many
times in the past, he knew
every curve, bend, straightaway.
Periodically he would kick
a rock out of his way, then groan,
readjust the pack, balance it.
Looking up the path, sighing
one step then the next,
it's always like that.
Keep moving up, slowly
always slowly.
He thinks as he trudges,
the past, present, future,
all seem to intersect here.
In youth it was easy
he was quick, could carry
heavier packs, moving
swiftly to his destination.
It's different now,
the weight is heavier,
the distance longer,
movement painful, slow,
but still when he glimpses
his destination there is
a shimmer in his spirit
of that young man.