The Steps Still to Walk

The old man
was at one side of the picture.

The horse
was far off.

Between them

lay wide ground.

I
looked toward the horse.

The old man
moved his stick.

The tip of the stick
touched the ground.

One foot
followed.

The next foot

did not come at once.

The next step
was farther

than the one before.

I
took my eyes from the far horse

and looked at the ground before the old man's feet.

The tip of the stick
rested there.

I looked
only at that small place.

The old man
moved the stick a little.

The foot

came up close to it.

That day

it went that far.

The one who leaves
leaves once.

The one who stays
sends them off
every day.

Even after the boat is gone
the eyes
stay on the sea.

An empty place
does not erase
what is not there.

Rather,
it lets it be seen
longer.