As I journeyed
to the middle of the labyrinth,
the path was hidden by
crunchy remnants of leaves and twigs;
scattered
parts
of my life.
So
much
stuff!
Approaching the center,
my breath slowed
as I chose a trunk to sit on.
There I sat.
I sat with open eyes,
gazing
at the old ash tree in front of me.
Gnarly roots
deeply grounded in the earth.
Its thick trunk covered with ears of bark;
wrinkled, weathered skin.
I wonder what it heard from the
silent prayers of my heart?
Branches,
adorned with wind chimes and messages, speaking truth.
The remaining leaves,
preparing to drop,
still held on.
Kairos.
As I wound my way
back
out of the path,
Wisdom spoke.
Fragments of leaves and dead twigs,
tears shed from the tree.
Each step a prayer
for those who traveled before.
What is mine to do?
Grace walked with me
as I noticed:
the familiar
was no longer scattered,
for we are all from the same Source.
The way home
has always been
within.
It was I
who needed
to
change.
October 3, 2020
Mercy Center labyrinth
Bread for the Journey 