Day 1 prompt: write a self-portrait poem in which I make a specific action a metaphor for my life.
It is not a race
to see who can finish first,
more like a gently paced
quest of endurance.
There’s luck involved,
both good and bad,
with my marathon – pushing
fortune and its end farther ahead.
Along my pocked path were
rocks, ruts, turnarounds, dead ends,
and restarts from new places; ravines, and
tragic obstacles to be bridged.
From a smooth sprint start, through
crowded roads, into and out of
adventure or danger. Now pleasant,
euphoric memories of pasts I’ve had.
Yet, an end is near.
Bill Reynolds: April 1, 2020
Look both ways. The path or road is life’s metaphor. Mind the gaps, metaphor or not.