The Road<\/p>\n
by<\/p>\n
Jennifer Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Someone else made this road.<\/p>\n
I am not a trailblazer.<\/p>\n
This road was made and walked<\/p>\n
By many others before me.<\/p>\n
The end could be a dead end,<\/p>\n
It could be a cliff, a lake, a swamp,<\/p>\n
It could be a forest, it might open<\/p>\n
Into an emerald city or a wheat field.<\/p>\n
The only certainty is death<\/p>\n
Waiting at the doorstep<\/p>\n
Of the end\u2014everybody knows that.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I close my eyes as I walk<\/p>\n
Both by choice and because I am afraid to see<\/p>\n
Where I am going.\u00a0 Sometimes<\/p>\n
I break into a run, sometimes it is everything<\/p>\n
I can do to keep moving, other times<\/p>\n
I amble around like a lost bear, and other times\u2014<\/p>\n
More often in years past\u2014I dance,<\/p>\n
And when I am fully awake<\/p>\n
I see just how many people have carried me a spell.<\/p>\n
Most of the time I am looking at the ground.<\/p>\n
Yes, stop and smell the roses and honeysuckle,<\/p>\n
Admire the weeping cherry, and the sunflowers, I know.<\/p>\n
I do my best.\u00a0 And even though I do not see<\/p>\n
Where this road leads someone made it,<\/p>\n
Someone else walked it.\u00a0 It may<\/p>\n
Very well end in a ruinous cavern<\/p>\n
Or a dark alley strewn with bottles and glass.<\/p>\n
It may also lead home.<\/p>\n