Form: Prose Poem
How does it feel to have the well-worn, comfortable rug beneath your feet pulled suddenly, unceremoniously and with ferocity! How does one get rid of the grit in the mouth as one falls flat on face! The dappled sunlight that I was enjoying on my well charted path is long gone! The shady trees pruned by the vagaries of time allow the harsh sun to scorch the ground beneath my naked feet. I stumble blinded by the turn of events, meandering into the unmarked path. I look for solace provided by the ever bountiful words. Sometimes they are the prop I need to stand straight, at other times an escape from the burden that living seems to have become. I fear not the unknown, I am wary and weary but I plod on. Life is for living…this gift I cannot squander.
(I will be posting a poem or maybe two everyday this entire month. I look forward to your support and encouragement, at the same time I understand that reading every blog is not possible! Drop in whenever you can.)