My smartwatch says I am
at 1492 steps for the day
and because I can’t stand seeing that number on my wrist
a symbolic commemoration
of the year when things went epically bad
I get up at once
and start walking around the house like mad
raising and raising that number as high as I can
past 1523, 1607, 1609, 1620, 1680, on and on to 1890 and beyond
until I slow down when I hit 2018 and drive myself past that
to 2020, 2100, 2200, 3000, all the way to 3712
when I stop myself and ask out loud the dreaded question
will that year when it comes offer enough distance from 1492
and all the rest of bad history
Will that be enough time to repair us back to health
or perhaps to have created
something new to shine upon Earth
in the way that we’re told
in every myth and legend we have
that the Earth once cradled us
Or will 3712 be desolate and messy
A forgotten grave tonsured in sparse grass
like an ancient scalp shedding its last hair
as it crumbles into undifferentiated dust
At the moment all I have to go on
is the memory of how I felt staring down at 1492
while thinking of its symbolism as a placeholder for pain
and of 3712 as a different symbol indeed
of how pain can drive you into hope
and how it all will begin again tomorrow from 0
when I will certainly come upon 1492 again
In fact I’ve got many more steps I could take today
I rise again from my seat and go ahead
