In the bitterness of
an ending there is still light,
in an attempt to not preach
there’s still a story,
in a step backwards
there’s solace in familiar repetition.
In re-tracing these steps
over and over
new light can be found:
in a sunrise, in a moonrise,
in the fluctuation of bird life
and regular kangaroo and joey visitors.
They are steps trodden
with the anticipation of the day,
then the weight of the day.
Steps lined with dignity and purpose –
a new day, a new goal, a new to-to list.
The steps carry weight and meaning –
but they are also the product
of a type of mindless repetition –
the humdrum of the norm,
establishing the status quo.
And if rain was to fall,
and turn the red dirt to mush,
new obstacles could arise –
a slippery patch, a mound, a wayward branch or two.
The struggle can define your day, if you let it.
It can redirect your ambition and
place you on a constant misstep.
It can build in a crescendo
of failed expectations –
of hope for change.
Yet, every morning, we step forward,
knowing, quietly,
that there’s new light
to be found behind the mountains.
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