On the path, I am the one
who forgets to look up—
the one who doesn’t see the mountain
because I am focused on the path.
I am the one who fears the dead end,
who worries and obsesses about it,
only to discover it wasn’t an end at all,
just a sharp turn, and the path goes on.
I am the one who fears she’s not good enough
for this path, who wonders if there’s another path
somewhere that I am supposed to be on.
Everyone else seems to know where they’re going.
I can’t even seem to spot the signs.
Confused, I stop, which allows me
to notice the weeds gone to seed,
notice their tiny white globes, notice
how good it feels to stop
and notice them. I am the one who
cares so much about the path and still
fails at staying on it. In fact,
the more I pay attention, the more
I am the one who forgets there is a path.
I try to start each day with a poem – and I thank you for so often putting into words the feelings I and so many others have. This one is a keeper!
Thank you, Mary … glad to be off (and on) the path with you!
“weeds gone to seed” …aren’t we all!
We’ve recently put in a stone path in our garden. I remarked to David that I’ve been so enamored with the path, that I’d forgotten the stars. Let’s look up, me and you, and trust our feet to follow the path. 🙂 Love and Namaste my friend
isn’t that it. the path itself becomes the obstacle. in it with you, as always, xo
r