Learning to let the writing speak for itself without overexplaining.
This poem is a complete spill as I was throwing away my dried rose arrangement. It became a pure stream of consciousness reflection on how we bloom,wilt, and carry our lives proudly anyway.
Walking is a favourite pastime for me. Long walks into the forest pathways have often been therapeutic.
One evening, on a sunny afternoon, I chose a path I never tried before. Each step I took, shaped into the famous poetic lines from Robert Frost’s poemThe Road Not Taken.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I felt no different. It was the most beautiful day. Deeper into the woods, I was welcomed by a stream flowing unidirectional, and the mallard ducks swimming in the opposite direction.
The light wind tousled my hair and the sun-kissed leaves of the huge tree sizzled. And then I heard a wild calling. It was suddenly deafening to my ears. My courage took a U-turn and I stood searching. “Where am I in the woods?”…