The way

I sense a way forward

barely intuited

amidst the clinging brambles of life.

I’ve been a good girl

creating a good religion

but  each question answered

multiplied into more questions

until I spin

confusedly on a merry-go-round.

But when I began to run

wildly searching for the way

I tripped upon a hidden root

and fell headlong into the mud.

Soiling my fastidious clothing

I breathed a sigh of relief

as an aroma of freedom

tantalizes my sodden nostrils.

I see the faintest of deer trails

through the thicket

away from the groomed path

but it could be a dead end.

Here I stand

one foot on the trail

the other on the path

conscious that I may have to get muddier

before I can feel clean.

Is the key to  freedom risking everything to experience grace?

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