The Writer

I wrote this poem in response to the theme of “passion” during a writing workshop. Since writing is my passion I decided to use my surroundings as a metaphor for the writer in me while walking the labyrinth at Five Oaks Retreat Centre in Paris, Ontario.

I am the tree with my roots planted firmly in the ground,
my arms reach toward heaven.
I take sustenance from earth and sky
as I grow into my full potential.

As I look to the heavens, the sky moves.
Sometimes dark, sometimes clear,
but always changing direction
as it must.

There may be rocks that block my path,
but my seedlings have the power
to break it apart as it grows.
You cannot stop me.

I follow the path laid out for me
as closely as I must.
But there are times when God will lead me,
and this I learn to trust.

I see the bench,
a place of rest.
But this is not for me.
I am unfinished.

Categories: Poetry

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