Until a Limb

I followed through a pathless wood
too close perhaps
to see the forest for the trees
or miss the slaps
of thoughtless branches in my face
let go it seemed
with little care of consequence
and no esteemed
perception that others followed
close behind him.
Branch after bending branch we trod
until a limb
snapped back so hard it lashed my eyes.
Half-blinded then
I saw anew the need for space,
but walked again,
this time seeing forest and trees
at my own pace
as stings gave way to speckled sun
upon my face.

Tom Kapanka
April 2, 2011

Years ago I began experimenting with structured verse in a pattern of 8-syllable lines followed by 4 syllables in the next line. In this case I only rhymed the shorter lines in pairs. These lines were written in April, 2011, but I did not post it at POI until April 13, 2012. It is based in part on the experience many have had while walking behind someone in a dense woods... especially if they are following a person who insists his chosen course is the only way and those who follow must keep close rank. But when the one in front keeps bending branches to save his own face only to let them slap the face behind him, the hurtful pattern should be kindly pointed out so long as it continues. If the concerns fall on deaf ears, however, and the wrecklessness of the one in front continues, even the most forgiving scouts may be wise to choose a parallel path rather than be blamed for the endless quarreling over branches. The same sun will light both paths, and in time, the Son will make all things clear.  Romans 12:17-21