... in a Brooklyn hood
And sorry I could not stay true
To one faith, if both I should choose
I looked down them as far as I could
To block's end, where it turned from my view;
Then I sat down on the stoop
But having foresight enough to see
the view from there was no good for me.
Because I faced a glassy, littered lot
open and unused, so long left in want
Sitting still, I'd end in the same place
an empty space, a heart like the pavement cracked.
So I surveyed both roads again
Knowing they are one way lanes,
I doubted if I should ever come back
I shall remember this place with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a hood, and I --
I took the one . . .
And that will make all the difference.
*My apologies to the memory of Robert Frost, and the real poets out there. (forgive the abuse of meter, et al.) *
But today I find breathing difficult and the weight of my choices heavy. I feel the two directions of my life pulling hard. The gravity suffocating my soul. I can't stay here without choosing, becuase that's the worse decision. What am I doing? I really don't know. I do know that I won't get to make these same decisions again. That this juncture of my life is momentous, determining the years to come. Or maybe I just need more anxiety medication--since the good stuff is hard to come by, I'll assume otherwise.
I see two different lives I could wend my way through: the great and spacious building glittering me blind--thats the way the firefly inside me drives; and a narrow rocky path going straiter than strait, with a handrail to navigate the difficult place --My rational animal begs me to take that trail.
I shiver in fear both of movement and stagnation.
Two roads diverged in a Brooklyn hood. . . .