Life is not a straight line.
It’s a meandering stream,
Spilling down a mountain with no regard for direction or destiny,
Gurgling its way this way and
that way and back to
this way only to go that way.
Life is an unpredictable arrow
Surging forward with an enviable precision,
One that fills me with hubris
That promptly breaks to pieces
As I’m then yanked off track so hard
I get whiplash.
And in that hard jerk is a gentle tug
To release everything I am holding on to:
The image that does not match the face in the mirror,
The vocation that awkwardly fits the talents unfurling inside.
I unclench my fists and exhale,
Feeling my warm, wet breath dissolve into the space in front of me.
In the surrender is my release.