A collaboration between Red Gladiola and myself. πŸ™‚

I cannot cherry-pick

the days I’ve divided

my soul between reason and unknown.


I always step where I am told.

On this well-worn road
I cannot always discern
the next bend or turn through the deep ruts.


Do not ask me where it leads.

I am crying for someone

to come pull me from the middle,

where I stand now.


Voices ahead.


Begging my follow through.


This yellow line is the closest friend,

knowing decision can’t be made

when force cripples my frame.


I plod through
another journey’s day.

Sending my prayers to the sky
the burden lightens
from mere acclimation.


Drifting, I hesitate against the grass
where the trodden path abuts.

Should I follow conformity’s soft

blade down to meet river comfort?


Or venture out to rock’s edge,

risking bruised & skinned knee

to hear I am loved the same

though middle ground became

my stability from the beginning?


I pray my answer comes

in your acceptance twining,

our hands’ strength becoming one.


12 thoughts on “Nomad

  1. Pingback: Nomad | redgladiola

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