What lines do I trace in the dust at my feet, across the fields thrice walked? What passages do I drift down like a ghost in a chapel without faith? Which of these footprints are mine, or were never mine again?
So many paths, near and far, now and then. So many paths, sketched out in chalk to measure our end. Which do we take now, which paths do we save until after the moment unexpected, when the suspense is over?
What will you leave by the wayside? Who will judge the chaos in your wake? How will you continue without your burden?
Will you ever stop to wonder why not? Will you whisper a prayer for the nights you did not forgive, the days that did not forgive you? Will you ever scream “ENOUGH” and let it all sweep you away, like leaves on the water’s edge?
We are all that we have, each of us, chosen by desperation, desperete by choice. Love and pain, life and death. We must each answer the questions another can't. We must each question the answers another won't.
You are each my family now....and each of me is yours.
