This Road I'm Walking

March 14, 2010
By TheMaisinator BRONZE, Leeds, Maine
TheMaisinator BRONZE, Leeds, Maine
4 articles 0 photos 15 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination."
~Robert Fulghum


There's this road I've been walking.
It's long and intimidating.
It's a tortuous trail full of twists and curves.
But I love every minute of this journey.
It's a little dirt road
But it's vicious and rough.
Trees tower over it.
Hiding it from the rest of the world.
As I walk the straight and narrow
I notice people less fortunate
Who caved into temptation
And took a wrong turn along the way.
There are hills I must climb.
There are ditches I jumped
But I won't swerve
Not even a little.
The sun's setting.
Shadows begin to envelop the world.
Hands reach out to pull me down.
I ignore them and keep trekking.
It hurts; they laugh as they tear.
Rip at me until I fall.
The pain is excrutiating.
Burning all the way through.
I push and kick and scramble.
On my feet, I run.
I run from those who pull me down.
And continue on my way.
The sun begins to rise again.
Another day is nigh.
Another chance to be pulled down.
Another chance to be strong.
Traveling along.
I see another on my path.
I hurry to catch up.
With a smile, we walk together.
Happiness, joy, contentment.
But his hand slips out of mine.
He blows a kiss and wanders away.
Off the path, and I am alone once more.
I run.
Does this road never end?
It's becoming unbearable.
I can't help the tears.
But there's more ahead.
I am alone no longer.
I join a cluster of travelers.
And feel at home.
Someone takes my hand.
He's warm and soft.
Not like the last one.
I smile.
We meander along.
Together.
Some stray, most stay.
More join along the way.
These are my friends.
They make the journey continue.
Make it worth while.
Give me the strength.
We fight off the hands.
We battle the hills.
We wipe away tears.
And keep walking on.
We come to a fork.
One path left and one going right.
Our crew splits in two.
But the hand's still in mine.
We keep walking.
And someone points up.
It's a street sign.
It says "Life."

The author's comments:
Just take what it from you will, and that is what I put into it.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.



Parkland Book