Upon These Tangled Paths

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

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