. . . . . . . . . .
We walk a path for so long
it becomes deep and worn
familiar and comfortable
our feet step into moulds
made by all the yesterdays
and the scenery is forgotten
it has become routine, known
we begin to forgot how to see
for we know our route so well
that we could walk it blindfold
and being unaware, we often do
the towering sky and soft birdsong
become background, wallpaper
and the well trodden path
becomes a rut
deep sided
stifling
but
climbing
up and out
seems daunting
we are so sure of this path
we know it like the back of our hand
how will we know where to put our feet
when we are not following the others
when the route is not marked out
this rut is feeling like a grave
so we clamber up and out
and realise that things
look different here
unfamilar and new
we can feel energy
bubbling to the surface
fear and excitement mixed
and we look around and understand
that any direction would be a good one
that there are no pre-plotted right paths
that all the paths are made by walking
our mind throws off its shackles
and now no longer tethered
our spirit begins to rise
full of possibilities
and finally free
we take flight
and we soar
. . . .
- Susannah Bec 2010We walk a path for so long
it becomes deep and worn
familiar and comfortable
our feet step into moulds
made by all the yesterdays
and the scenery is forgotten
it has become routine, known
we begin to forgot how to see
for we know our route so well
that we could walk it blindfold
and being unaware, we often do
the towering sky and soft birdsong
become background, wallpaper
and the well trodden path
becomes a rut
deep sided
stifling
but
climbing
up and out
seems daunting
we are so sure of this path
we know it like the back of our hand
how will we know where to put our feet
when we are not following the others
when the route is not marked out
this rut is feeling like a grave
so we clamber up and out
and realise that things
look different here
unfamilar and new
we can feel energy
bubbling to the surface
fear and excitement mixed
and we look around and understand
that any direction would be a good one
that there are no pre-plotted right paths
that all the paths are made by walking
our mind throws off its shackles
and now no longer tethered
our spirit begins to rise
full of possibilities
and finally free
we take flight
and we soar
. . . .
Inspired by the prompt word - soar.
Taken from my prompt writing blog - Panopticulated.
8 comments:
Fantastic, Susannah! I love your shaped poems and I adore poems that encourage one to soar. Cant remember who said "Traveler, there is no path. The Way IS the path!" Wonderful shaped poem.
Susannah this is beautiful and I love the ending:
`we take flight
and we soar`
Pamela
I like the way the poem looks on the page a lot
oh man, I've trodden that very same path! So well written, I could feel myself rushing toward what had to come, an ending the spelled relief. And, so there it was at last!
Nice visual effect as well! Wonderful piece!
good post for me.
Thanks everyone, I really appreciate you taking the time to read and leave comments. Much appreciated. :-)
I think everyone has been down this road at some point in life. I really enjoyed this shaped poem.
a deep and thoughtful piece, full of self-awareness and emotional availability, and insight. and yeah, the shape was an ingenious touch!
PS. thanks for putting me in your blogroll and sending me traffic. you're also welcome to leave comments on my site if you find anything that does anything for you. ;)
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