How Do You Choose One Endless Possibility?

I am alone in the woods. Trees surround me. Behind each tree is a different possibility. It is difficult to retrace my steps after I’ve taken them so I must choose carefully. I can only imagine what lies beyond each tree. There is nothing concrete. When I was left in these woods initially it seemed as if I had all the time I needed to decide on my path. Food, water, and shelter were provided, I had comfort and there was want for nothing. I knew my time with these luxuries was limited but I did not ponder on my steps too often. Now as time draws to a close the steps I thought I would take, the trees I knew I would choose, are no longer definitive. I allow myself for the first time to fully internalize all the choices and what I imagine to be the results of them. For the first time in these woods I feel lost. Though I have always been alone here. There is a guide to show me the correct path. I must listen carefully and believe. I think this to myself but still I am lost. I spin around looking at all the trees until I fall flat on my face and cry myself to sleep. I can worry tomorrow- which is the kind of thinking that got me here in the first place. So instead of sleeping I sit in the dead middle of the grove surrounded by trees. I listen real hard for my guide. I don’t hear a thing. Listen harder. Wait. Open my eyes and accept that I am still lost. There are so many things to think about when choosing a tree and its path. How am I supposed to know? My guide? Why won’t it tell me where to go? Wait. Ok, I will try to be patient. Wait. Look at all the trees and wait.

The Calla Lilies Are in Bloom

The calla lilies are in bloom

Each bud unfolds into perfection

The graceful white of their pure color

Reminds me

The long stems are strong and sleek

Without error they grow

Never dying

Not to me

Never withering

Not to me

Can you guess where these calla lillies grow?

Inside of me

(* I didn’t take this picture, I wish I had. This picture is by Glenn Paulley Photography)

A Conversation with Shakespeare

“This spring is cold.” said I to him.

And at that he replied, “An old soul carries winter .”

“And yet…” said he, “Methinks that you might feel warmth if only you would fall.”

“Fall?!” said I, “Falstaff you mean, for falling is for fools.”

“But fools can teachers be.” said he.

“Spring is a coward anyway and Winter is so brave. I would rather shielded be by icy fortress than slain in open green plain!” This point I made with emotion because it sustained me true.

He looked right through my cold blue depths and quietly he said, “I see my dear that you know not of what sweet Spring is made and for that, I weep for you.”

Startled at his solemnity and wanting for a shift, I queried him about his works and rambled on and on, but staunch in his argument he pointed out to me that his works were based on love, even in tragedy.

The Thing With Daggers

What new bit of insanity is this? Surely, my heart is having a lark- a laugh- as most fools do. To be pulling and pushing my thoughts to the desire I had forsaken. Still forsake! Don’t I? Time also is a part of this trick, to make me forget, to weaken my defense. When did I lose sight of the fact that hope is not the thing with feathers? Hope, I know, I know, is the things with daggers.

Say to me that I can breathe

Timing is so specific all things fall together peace undiscovered worlds torn apart philosophies of philosophers dictate out world’s discussion- Say to me that I can breathe and know my future is not at stake- the wars and the tears rights and wrongs subjective- Say to me that I can breathe and sleep peacefully tonight- answers are so vague clouds black out the light beauty is false and fleeting, can’t you feel the doubt? votes have gone uncounted voices of the people grow weak- Say to me that I can breathe and know my futures not at stake- the wars and the tears the rights and the wrongs subjective- Say to me that I can breathe and sleep peacefully tonight


Feeling her pain- taking on his plight- the world’s tears are falling from my eyes- absorbing love and loneliness- not my own

Sensing fear- seeing sadness- swimming in emotion- sinking in their eyes- knowing my only way of freeing them- is enslaving myself

Cut off from love- trying to live my life- moment to moment- I could be so much more- without the chains that bind me

Letting empathy go- I’d be free