Notice where the ground gives way in you, and step there with intention, bringing only what you are ready to leave behind.
Some holes are bigger and deeper than others,
Some are camouflaged under scattered leaves,
Some are a chasm in the middle of the road we walk,
And then some holes heal.
Some holes catch a careless foot,
Accept what must be laid down,
Swallow whole days,
And feed flames until the smoke finds a way out.
Some holes hold bones and coins,
The spent and the once-precious together,
Offerings without witnesses,
Kept from the weather with spells scratched in stone.
Some holes are full despite appearances,
Heavy with things unsaid,
Stories folded small to survive,
Secrets that prefer the dark and wait without asking.
Some holes warn us bluntly,
With shadow and chill and depth,
And still they lean toward us,
Promising beauty if we are willing to descend.
Some holes offer rest instead of a fall,
A place for weight to be set down,
Where water gathers without hurry,
Where warmth stays to relieve aches and imbalance.
Some holes widen, inviting astonishment,
Carrying more than they show,
Threaded with roots and unseen paths,
Inviting us to bring burdens to be left beside the bones.
This is my journey,
— Nate Long “Owl”