Travel Plans
I think it
but there’s really no point in asking the question
as I am well aware of the answer
(Where have you been all my life?)
Walking your road
and I
walking mine
I don’t know of all your travels
or what all your stops and detours have been along the way
I only know my own road –
sometimes long
so long and painful that many days I wanted
to rush to the end
and be done with the journey prematurely
sometimes broad
so broad and entrancing that I could gawk and explore
without fear of running into anything
or anyone and being stopped dead in my tracks
sometimes meandering
so meandering and foreign that I could never guess
who or what might be around the bend
or the treasures I might find
sometimes steep
so steep and narrow that I feared falling
off the precipice and careening to
the bottom where only blackness and longing dwelled
sometimes generous
so generous and heaped with blessings
of love and laughter
that I could barely catch my breath to offer thanks to the universe
sometimes rocky
so rocky and rutted that I tripped
and fell so many times my knees and soul left
scraped and scarred doubting the wounds would ever heal
sometimes lonely
so lonely and desolate that there was only silence
and no one there to try to stop the flow of tears
or hold me when my sadness became unbearable
But travel we must
converging with others roads when the time is right
and yours has converged with mine
on what would seem a serendipitous pathway
or possibly a collision at a crossroads
We each have reached out to the other
hands
fingers
tendrils of souls
intertwining and trusting
How long we will stroll this merged, but imperfect thoroughfare
remains to be seen
I only know the ground seems steadier
with you beside me
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 