the surface of the story seemed so bright
we were led into it like children lost in a wood
expecting something good, some treat.
for we were sweet.
some chance to sleep in the rose beds
guarded by angels.
this is not what happened.
though we thought it would.
though we packed everything
and were on our way.
and we were merry, under an eggshell sky.
a thousand times a day since
I've wished that I could stray
and follow the path back
and choose by knowing what I know today
a much more diffident way and been at home.
and then I think well. it happened as it did
and God still led us out by the hand in between rainstorms
and I don't understand even how that happened.
mary angela douglas 15 april 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment