PATHWAY ©
The storm changed the road - a storm always does.
The rain held the clouds up, floating at summit level
Giving brief glimpses between the wind-swept hills.
Below, a raging torrent ran, brown and turbulent -
Tumbling, crashing, gouging out the muddy banks.
And rocks.
Every turn, every corner, every bend -
Had trails of fallen rocks.
Obstacles thrown in the way of my journey.
The rocks are very insistent - sitting there insolently,
Blocking my way, demanding all of my attention.
I have options.
I could choose to ignore them,
Choose to pretend they are not there.
Make a run for it - and risk ending up
Upside down in the raging torrent.
But I've been there before,
And it took a long time to get out.
I can stop and get out and confront them.
Demand that they get out of my way,
Cease to exist, or better yet, have never existed.
If I wished, I could sit with them for awhile -
Loving them, being in touch, connecting.
Or I can carefully negotiate my way -
Accepting them, respecting them,
Leaving them behind.
I didn't build the road. I like to think I did,
For then it would do what I told it to.
But it won't.
Nonetheless, it is my road,
And they are my rocks.
So I approach the next bend with some trepidation,
And some eagerness.
For I know that the view will be clearer,
More defined, more magnificent
Than the one I left behind.
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