On our Way to Wawa

A certain Zen attends this most
non-pedestrian of affairs.
I am behind the wheel –
this circle, this eternity –
that unveils the truth
it is: what goes round is first
found in You, Point
of departure,
of arrival,
of travel.

This, my peregrination to points
last seen two decades ago, may
or may not be pilgrimage.
How am I to know? My
not-knowing is a hard truth.

But this too is true:
I cannot
take a step,
drive a kilometre,
sail a nautical mile or
traverse the continent without You
upending each ending and
bending each first.


6 thoughts on “On our Way to Wawa

  1. Mary Irene says:

    Majestic writing…thank you for sharing!

  2. shoreacres says:

    I don’t have a clue what your Wawa is — a place? a conference? some Canadian state of mind I don’t know about? — but I know what Wawa is to me, and you just took me there in an instant. When I was living in Liberia, “Wawa” was the gently ironic, often resigned, sometimes sarcastic expression of knowing expats that meant, “West Africa wins again.” In the collision of cultures, the difficulties of life, and the apparently mysterious behaviors that surrounded us, there wasn’t a week that went by without hearing someone say, with a shrug of the shoulders or a roll of the eyes, “Wawa.”

    In any event, the journey toward understanding and accepting “Wawa” seems somehow related to your journey. The wheels roll on, for sure.

    • agjorgenson says:

      That is truly fascinating! I’m glad you were able to make the connection. Wawa is a town we first drove past when we made the big trip from Alberta to Ontario when I started grad studies 19 years ago. The area around it struck us as especially beautiful as we travelled in our U-Haul truck and VW Passat. We promised ourselves we would go back and see it again, which we did this last summer. It was still beautiful, but in different ways, of course. Wawa… I’ll never see the town in the same light after your comment. How extraordinary!

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