Unallowable

You are tired,
worn from a path far from straight,
one that wanders
and climbs
and at times is washed out completely,
at times unmarked
with a thousand options
each leading to a different kind of hell
or a different kind of heaven
than you ever conceived when you began
your fairy tale story
that is somehow more Grimm than Disney.

But still, you walk.
But still, you follow the path you have chosen,
stubborn or stupid, you are rarely sure which,
certain only that when you stop
believing,
you die,
and they,
those nay sayers, those pundits, those dark enemies
who see only past and plunder and plights
who sow their anger like profligate sons,
would be proven true.

And that lie
you cannot allow.

About this poem

How did I get here? That’s a question I used to ask in disappointment. Now, I ask it in wonderment and amazement, surprised how those who have beaten me up each, somehow, in the long run, made me stronger, yet softer.

I don’t know how that works. I only know it has.

Tom

PS – the picture, unlike almost all of them on this blog, is not mine. It’s part of a series of pictures I bought the rights to use for one of my clients’ projects, but we did not use this one, which was my favorite. I knew a poem would show up for it some day.