Walking Amongst The Shadows

I Went for a Walk Today

I went for a walk today.
I walked with my beautiful Black Dog.

His beauty is his eternal familiarity.
He has always known the path.
I know him.
He knows me.

When we are together,
no-one else matters.
No-one else is invited.

The world narrows down to a single road.
Footsteps on damp ground.
Breath clouding the air.
Silence, but for the weight of his presence.

When I opened my eyes from our walk,
many people had gone.
Some forever.
Some simply moving on.

And this, too, is the Black Dog’s way —
he keeps me close,
but he keeps me apart.
A companion,
but not a friend.

There is a strange tenderness to our bond.
I know the curve of his shadow,
the way he settles at my heel.
Sometimes I wonder if he is leading me,
or if I am walking him.

But even in his darkness,
I hold a thread of light.
Because every walk ends.
And when it does,
the world — broken as it is —
waits for me to return.

When your shadows visit, how do they walk beside you? Do they silence you, or do they teach you something?

In tenderness,

A. J. Ashé