Word of advice regarding a labyrinth walk:

Do not bring your husband who has vascular dementia.

He cannot remember that this is a sacred activity.

A silent activity.

I send him in ahead of me. 

I wait.  Close eyes.  Find my question.

Slow step.  Heel to toe step.

*

He makes silly Halloween noises when he passes me.

I’m in a bubble, I tell him. Be quiet.

He walks fast.  He sits on a bench. 

He says, People leave stuff here.

Sssh! I hiss.

Slow step. Heel to toe step.

*

Focus, I tell myself, focus on your question.

He repeats, People leave stuff here. 

I give up on the spiritual and focus on the material.

Stones delineate the paths.

The makers have laid down weed deterring cloth

fixed it to the earth with spikes

and metal washers the size of doughnuts.

Then a layer of mulch on the cloth.

Slow step. Heel to toe step.

*

I examine the trinkets visitors have left.

A beaded bracelet and one made of string.

Several cartoon character plastic toys

A dream catcher

A row of scallop shells

A painted red word: peace.

Slow step. Heel to toe step.

*

I am in the center

sacred leftovers jumbled at my feet.

What was my question? 

A laminated photograph of a young man

Latino. 2000-2019

A card about suicide prevention.

Is that my answer?  Gratitude?

*

Get away! Get away! he says, swatting at gnats.

The stone walls stand witness.

Trees breathe green.

Scent of honeysuckle

On a rush of wind

A spatter of rain

Slow step.  Heel to toe step.

*

So many seekers walking

I hold them all within me.

As they hold me

And this bumbling, noisy man as well.