The healing.
A path, rocky, strewn with jagged stones
Forced to tip toe barefoot
Even though...I chose it.
Restless, bored, tip toe on.
A dappled ray of sunshine,
Mesmerizing, peaceful, briefly loving,
Suddenly shadows, spectres, solipsistic pity,
Stop.
Wait.
Breathe.
Another branch of the path,
Passing near the ocean, the bath of nature,
How the waves can wash away the day's fretfulness,
A drowning, salty, caress.
Back, back to the twisting road of soul,
Chosen, yes, a choice, the will that was given in spite of the wholeness in spirit.
Let it ride, let it wave, let it weave,
Knowing the going home
Is to heal.
Mary Kirkpatrick 2/23/23
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