We march, shoulder to shoulder,
In a column down the road
Densely packed together,
Those behind us take the goad
I strain to make my way
Through the crowd, to see
The final destination
We pursue in step proudly,
But only elbows, shoulders,
The backs of many heads:
And everyone is leading,
And everyone is led.
The left leads with their left foot
The right leads with their right
As I tumble, tossed between them
For my way to walk upright
I stumble once, a hip
Collides into my side,
I find the ground beneath my palms,
Then catch a knee in stride
Foot by foot, I’m pressed
Now my back, my neck, my hand
As I scratch and claw sideways
Out to higher land
Aside the moving crowd
I recline on the foot of a grassy bank
I catch my breath. I see the sky.
I lift my quiet thanks.
The throngs continue moving
Humming as they go,
Some homogeneous buzz:
A million tunes that no one knows.
The sky above looks gray,
But along the horizon view
It spreads to fill the space
Pink blooming to vibrant blue.
I lift my head, and standing alone
At the peak of my grassy slope
I’m caught unaware by a flower
Piercing with sudden hope
A nameless hope, shapeless,
Stirring my stagnant depths
Now I’m crawling and fumbling,
Too bent low to take real steps.
As I crest the hill, splendor
Bathes me in golden light
Fields of flowers spread
Out to the farthest sight
And rocky mountains carve the air,
A crystal lake reflects the sun
People break off from the group
Slowly, one by one,
I stand to resume the migration,
Ambling beside the troupe
Neither independent,
Nor one within the group,
But all my steps ascend the hill
Gravitating to beauty
Devotion meets affection;
Loyalty finds its duty.
Somehow a nation is formed
In steps between the two;
The solid mass of man,
And the beatific view.