Forging My Own Byway

Forging My Own Byway

Thoughts.
Feelings.
Spinning.
Running into each other.
No way out.

All the words.
All the poems.
Weave together.
A web of dichotomy.
Faith. Confusion.
Strength. Despair.
Power. Exhaustion.
Belief. Uncertainty.

An EVERY day focus.
Laser point precision.
Moving in a singular direction.
Walking for miles.
Yet staying in same place.
Wings fervently flapping,
straining to take flight.
The ground not letting go.

My compass needle
spiraling out-of-control.
Its magnetic field
has gone haywire.

Struggling to decipher
a jigsaw puzzle.
Mismatched pieces.
Scattered.
Everywhere.

Anxiety. Anguish.
Butterflies
morphing into Dragons.
Living. Breathing.
Taking residence.
Complete possession.

Terrain crumbling,
beneath my feet.
Only traces of dust remain.
I shudder.
Staggering on the tightrope.
Pivoting on tip toes.
Teeter-tottering.

Recalibrate.
Adjust my feathers.
Navigate a new path.
My hand quivers
as I attempt to draw a line
in the collapsing sand.

A multi-dimensional,
treasure map.
Perpetually changing.
Fluctuating at every turn.
Detours throughout
my pilgrimage.
Deviating from
the trampled road.
Detaching from
the gridlock.

Forging my own byway.
Others feeding me
converging directions
Muting the roar.
Inside out.
Outside in.

Fearful.
Unsettled.
Dreaming
for an epiphany.
20/20 Foresight.
I’m blinded.
Close my eyes.
Jump.
Believe!
Freefall.
Trust!

Plunge
through the darkness.
Locate
the shaft of illumination.
Take my hand
and show me the way.
Lead me to Life!
Living. Breathing. Loving.

Nancy L. Baskin Michlin, M.Ed., C.H.C.
May 16-17, 2014
Poem #386

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