In the safety of community, we find guidance, choices, hope. The way forward is not behind us. Children watch us, taking note as withered wisdom’s blossoms fade, fortunes lost, ransoms paid. Icy roadblocks freeze our tracks, keeping us ever looking back, wishing for a different way than living to fight another day.
Surrendered to the calendar life seems futile. Commanded to obey instinct we lose the game of pray for prey. Melted puddles underfoot, embers defying ash and soot, dreams won’t be held against their will. Flickers flash one last mad dash soaring, imploring better angels, “Save us from ourselves.”
This week’s Friday Fictioneer prompt, courtesy of Janet Webb, inspired this poetic prose that pretty much sums up how I feel about current events. Final exams are next week and my brain has been working overtime. So, feel free to reel me back in from the deep end.