Waxing poetic

Our Path

The path we chose was a fine one -

One without much risk, with the promise of sweetness along the way.

But then He whispered, “I have a new course for you,”

And the plan changed.

I wondered, briefly, if we were prepared for a different sort of journey,

But beauty and love at first sight left no ground for weeds of worry to take hold.

We knew.

And so we put our feet on the new path.

We were seasoned travelers, after all.

And the path was lovely and vibrant, surprisingly much like others already taken.

Confidence soared.

We began to wonder why so many avoid this way.

We enjoyed the scenery.

We praised ourselves for listening.

We smiled.

And the stray vines that sometimes crossed our lane went unregarded.

Our stroll continued in relative peace,

But I took note of subtle changes in the atmosphere.

Was it darkening?

My love seemed unaware of any difference.

On we walked, unease growing within me.

I was sure now –

Color was fading and grey was creeping in.

“We’re in for rain,” my love predicted, so innocently.

“Into each life some rain must fall,” Longfellow chastened.

But it seemed to be raining so often now. 

And I noticed that the ivy tendrils, well watered by the rains,

Sometimes caught about our ankles  - and were they pulling?

And just like that,

The clouds broke and the sun BEAMED.

We filled our lungs with perfumed air and I filled my heart with hope.

“Behind the clouds is the sun still shining,” Longfellow encouraged.

My love chided me.

It was only a little rain – nothing to worry about.

So I relaxed a bit, and laughed at myself. 

How very silly I was.

Foliage brightened and spread before our eyes. 

Birds chirped their secret messages.

My love grasped my hand with a gentle squeeze,

And on we pressed, enveloped in warm sunlight. 

The sweet smells and soft sounds and golden light were opiates to my soul

And prevented me from sensing any danger.

(Never again - my lesson learned!)

So he noticed it first this time.

“How quickly those storm clouds are gathering!” he marveled,

And I gasped as the sky darkened dramatically before our eyes.

“But the weather was perfect just moments ago.  Where was the warning?” I demanded.

A knot in my stomach tightened, and I thought I saw worry on my love’s face.

In an instant, we were drowning in a deluge.

We reached madly for a handhold, barely able to see for the downpour.

And in our struggle to keep ourselves upright and out of the mire,

Our clasped hands were torn apart.

From the place I’d fallen,

I could just make out ringlets of green encircling my love’s ankles.

I realized with horror that I, too, was ensnared.

Those vines, so innocuous in appearance, were pulling us apart.

We kicked and heaved and clambered, we reached and stretched and writhed. 

The grip of the tendrils tightened.

How could something so fresh and beautiful and sweet to the eyes be so cruel?

We felt the force on that path would utterly consume us.

Somehow, even in our struggle, understanding and clarity bathed our minds -

A gift from Him.

We were fiercely despised and desperately loved. insignificant and essential,

Resented and wanted, blamed and accepted, useless and needed beyond expression.

And so we learned quickly to tread very lightly on this path –

Our survival depends on it.

There exists a delicate balance,

Exhausting to maintain and punishing when disturbed.

The weather continues to change without warning -

prediction and preparation useless implements in our tiny toolbox.

But understanding and insight buoy us during flash floods,

And presence and love increasingly calm the raging storms when they come.

My love and I hold fast to each other now, and never let go.

The rainy path is hard to travel, but I know it’s our path.

That sustains me.

And today, at least, the sun is shining brightly.