Without Footsteps to Follow
A poem about my road untaken
There was a turning point That disguised itself as a stumble Down this rugged path Without footsteps ahead to follow
My feet knew the way to tread But my head saw the treachery ahead It still didn’t stop me from venturing forth And carving out my own line
Unknown to the dangers But known to the rewards That bind to the risks Of exploring untrodden ground
There is a dirt path to my left That has been forged by man’s tidiness Willingly offered to supple feet That appreciate the smooth certainty of its shape
That path is the fruit of someone else’s creation Built to feed minds that live to die Massaging the ground dug by others' feet In hopes of reliving the greatness of their stories
My hardened stubs hobble down uneven ground They are used to it by now Enough to still be known to me as feet That can run with any wolves I befriend
Why not cut through to the dirt path, you ask? Well, you see, I actually came from there But was called to my right Because the unfamiliarity bewildered me
I can’t say how long this journey will last Without footsteps to follow But isn’t that the essence of life; Not knowing what will become of tomorrow?
This is my poem in response to day 2 of the official NaPoWriMo poetry writing challenge.
Prompt #2 — as written on the website — is as follows:
In the world of well-known poems, maybe there’s no gem quite so hoary as Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about your own road not taken — about a choice of yours that has “made all the difference,” and what might have happened had you made a different choice.
© Rose Butcher, 2021. All rights reserved.
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