The path

'The path' by Sharon Watson

Resetting my fickle, twitchy compass,
Refinding God’s true North,
I get my bearings and
Tramp off.

Walking blindly at times,
I meander, stagger and fall.
Trusting where to place my next step,
Wanting to enjoy the journey,
Resisting the need to arrive.

Can’t determine the route ahead,
Can only look back and see
The road travelled,
Whether less or more,
The unlearning and learning as I go.

In silence I find
The pull of the way,
The gentle tug,
A soft, guiding hand in mine.
Leading me on
Along
The pathless path.

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