After Mary Oliver’s “The Journey”

As you strode deeper and deeper into the world,

you kept tugging at the strings dangling from the old wounds

on your heart,

felt it seize at the whisper of the knife slashing down again, and again, saw pale fingers gripping the dark handle.

You stumbled down the littered path,

stared into the dark until you trick out its wiliest secret:

the hand is yours.  The knife too.

And only you may choose to put it down for good.

Dear Universe, I offer my whole heart to you.

It is no sacrifice.

It is an offering.

I receive


in the



3 thoughts on “After Mary Oliver’s “The Journey”

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