Stillness Between Steps
A moment caught between forgetting and becoming
Halfway down the gravel path
I forget what I came to say.
The wind folds a page of sky -
blue gone wrinkled at the edges.
I carry a pen but it won't open.
The notebook’s spine is stiff,
as if holding back its breath,
waiting for something I haven’t thought yet.
A dandelion clocks itself apart.
I don't make a wish.
I used to.
Left foot in the shade,
right in the sun -
I don't know
which side I'm walking toward.
A dog barks three streets over.
A voice answers, but not to me.
Everything is moving but
nothing is happening.
And maybe that’s the point.
About the Creator
Alain SUPPINI
I’m Alain — a French critical care anesthesiologist who writes to keep memory alive. Between past and present, medicine and words, I search for what endures.
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Comments (2)
Wow, quite an impressive journey to the edge, for inspiration. I like how we got introduced to all the things that moved, although nothing happened. Then the personification of the notebook, as if it had a mind of it's own. 'Left foot in the shade, right in the sun' awesome attention to detail. This poem was absolutely lovely 👏🏾
“A dandelion clocks itself apart” Delightful! I enjoyed your poem!