On the clifftop the wildflowers bloom;
they are honey warmed by the sun and
I am dizzy with the fragrance of spring
which carries over me in this lone place.
Beneath me, the ocean smashes upon
rocks, and sea spray refreshes my face
like a merciful mist of saltwater kisses.
I follow paths unbound by loose gravel,
scratching between stones for a page
of contents that might help me acquire
some order within this disarranged life,
but the paths are unkempt and tangled;
tangled like memories, mistakes, lovers,
like words woven inside unfaded scars,
like sentences made of black and white,
once rigid but now collapsed into greys.
My feet continue, and I discover myself
no longer afraid of the unknown ahead.
“Stay out of the wilderness,” I was told,
but experience teaches what theology
never can, and the bravest truth of our
hearts is found in these tangled paths,
where we lose our faith
and instead find
Image courtesy Sergey Zolkin via unsplash.com