the future as a cat of nine tails,
each one slivered with glass,
and the whip-master said, “Choose
your road, your pain,
your handrail into the dark.”
I would’ve cried, I would’ve fought
for more time, the injustice,
struggled and sweat for my soul,
but for the voice of the candle-maker,
soft and low and steady,
calming the waves of my pounding heart:
“Choose to walk any road with love.
Take a flame with you down any path.
Anywhere you go will be right
if you walk with love
and shine your light.”
And so I picked what seemed the best,
and didn’t worry
about the rest.