A collaborative poem between me and Crippled at Your Table. J also posted the poem on her site, so please visit and explore more of her thoughtful works!
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.
Behind.
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.
RED GLADIOLA 