The Path

We awaken.
Our minds imagine pain enough
To pull us from deep slumber,
To make our bodies wake
To change
A situation no longer tenable.
There is no clarity
Like that post-storm,
When the wild winds
Are behind you now,
When you can emerge
From cool safe depths
To a surface of waves
Which arrive gently
On the lap of the shore.

The rocks over which you scrambled,
The pools through which you waded
Are still there,
Though no one again will tread
The path you made with your two feet.
The almost-distraction of a peaceful lagoon,
The green stone that shone:
Perhaps no other being will see them,
Certainly not the way you did
On that day,
So here we are,
Left with the story of them now.

And here still, the beautiful shell
You collected,
A reminder to hold
What you learned:
That your way was perfect
Because it was yours;
That you could tread carefully and pause
To cause no harm
And also find joy in risk and swiftness,
In the deep, intuitive knowing
Of where you needed to go
To make a life that was your own.