The Iron Door of Confusion

Between the layers

lies a collective confusion

about why we’re stuck

in a place where we know

to go

up or down.

Behind the iron door

in a space where there is no place

for joy or terror

in a place where we know

we should go

up or down.

Where the walls replaced

the once brilliant views

where there were no walls

there are now caverns of confusion

in a place where we know

to go up or down.

We move, we follow,

we express our sorrow.

But what do we do?

We pry open the iron door where we know

to go

up or down.

Laughter subsides

and we all arise

awakened to the choices

awakened by the voices

of the childrenĀ  playing

and the trees are swaying

away from the collusion

and much confusion

form the place where we know

to go

neither up nor down.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers

You’re Going to Like It When We Get There

There are times when it becomes most apparent,
the intensity of the pain.
For when the pain dissipates,
there lies a sleeping child
who yawns and looks up at you
waking with slow movements.
The child blinks the sleep out of her eyes,
adjusting to the light and says,
“Are we there?”
You smile and gently reply,
“Not yet, but we’ll be there soon.
So put on your shoes and brush your hair.
For you’re going to like it when we get there.”

 

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers