A Believer's Journal

               change direction

it may be an amiable suggestion
               try something new
               expand your horizons
               see the other side

it may be an urgent warning
               run from danger
               flee the peril
               turn round before it is too late

it may be an insidious enticement
               ditch your commitments
               ignore your duties
               put yourself first

it may be a gracious command
               repent
               turn away from foolishness and sin
               find the path that leads to life

it may utter randomness
               be here be there be anywhere
               yield to the chaos
               abide no rules no design no intent

it may be an invitation to dance
               imbibe the rhythm
               flow with your partner
               exult in the delight of the movement

               change direction

it is yours to choose
               a path, a way, a way of being
               not remaining stuck, not acceding to powerlessness
               but dancing, dancing, dancing to the music of God

When every spruce and fir are painted white,
the wintry scene dispenses pure delight
and all the world seems surely put to right,
but it is not so.

Where glistening shards of ice append the spout,
my curious dog approaches with her snout
and wonder wants to displace the dread and doubt,
but it cannot be so.

While pensive writers conjure enchanting tales,
their words and thoughts are shaped to allay travails,
the looming specter of terror inexorably pales,
but it must not be so.

Of angels among us we’re prompted to recall,
At least for a moment the enveloping shadows forestall,
Lest hopelessness leave us bereft of faith at all,
but it will not be so.