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| Dare (Grand Bend, 2004) |
A thousand ways beckon and forbid.
A thousand long paths diverge.
A few hopeful steps, round the bend. Before me a mountain of climbing. I hesitate.
I look back. Perhaps another way?
This path reveals a chasm. Down that, a desert looms. Thistles and thorns; formidable passages. Ferocious creatures. Dead ends.
I retreat.
Each path becomes a journey, each journey asks a lifetime.
Each misleading sign points vaguely, whispers maybes. Beckons and forbids. No destination promised, just hints.
Each way asks blind commitment to one step, then the next.
I feel ill-equipped.
Again and again, I return to the crossroads, daunted and uncertain any way is worth the struggle.
I don’t know where I’m going
or why I’m going anywhere at all.
Beneath my feet a warning, earth’s rumbled promise: you cannot stay.
Get on.
I sink to my knees. Will I let the ground crumble, swallow me?
The wind whispers though I can't hear meaning
under the howls.
