heel/toe heel/toe

Stepping carefully (heel/toe, heel/toe), my eyes lifted resolutely away from the Path, I move forward through the Labyrinth.

There are no sure guardians or advisors, only the chameleons of road signs cleverly planted years earlier; their rusted edges promising guidance but delivering razor sharp punishment for questioning their wisdom. For moving too close to the Truth. Better to stay in the middle of the Path they encourage with rusty blood beading the surface and bearing witness to those that got too close to the message. That dared question what they were advised.

Soft-walking, deliberate. Eyes fixed ahead defying the pull of the well-worn Path, visualizing a nonchalant you-don’t-see-me, I’m-no-threat Cloak of Glamour around me as I (heel/toe, heel/toe) slowly I move my fingers amongst the cords snaked around my chest, my head, my stomach. Seeking the charm that will unravel the Gordian Knots and shed their hold on me once and for all. The burden of moving as they bind me tighter-tighter-tighter makes this Journey excruciatingly halting and slow.

I feel the transparent fibers nibbling, wriggling, writhing. They seek entry, burrowing; with each breath I tell my body it’s armor. I am Impenetrable. You are smooth, O Elephant Skin. So smooth. Hardened by the corrections over the years. Ignore the welts and scars. You are taut and smooth and once I get these damn things loose they’ll not touch you again.

(heel/toe, heel/toe). Careful. Don’t rush. Don’t draw attention. NO DRAMA! What are you? Why are you always this way? What happens in this home stays in this home! Do you hear me? Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about! Make no sudden moves; you can do this. Find the Path.

I fail. Spectacularly. The What and When make no difference within Time, simply adds to my debts and the Journey must continue. My foot had sought the way forward and the musty whiff of always-never disappointing-ungrateful your-fault turned my ankle from Forward and lodges in the Teaching (You NEVER LEARN!) and my failure catches up those around in their own labyrinth and carries them with me into the bog of Legacy. I have added to their ropes/cords/bindings with my failure.

A breath before resuming (heel/toe, heel/toe) is a glaring mistake. The stink of the toxic sludge is cloyingly comforting. Familiar. I was born into this and should I just recognize that and welcome it I could stay here forever and this exhausting journey could. simply. stop.

There would be no more losses. No more surprises. No more careful soft-walking. My place is still there: a space meant just for me, me-sized and rigid, one in a line of Always-Right, Do-What-I-Say-Don’t-Say-What-I-Do, Anger-Justified.

My heritage is Legion and my Legacy has been written and rewritten for generations, the Path worn and smooth under the mist of the Future and the rubble of the Past.

The Whispers awake, summoned by the Teaching I allowed to distract me, and the Words sing anew as if never silenced. (heel/toe, heel/toe) I grit my teeth and keep my eyes forward as I resume the Walk, resist changing my gait to dance to the Old Song of not-good-enough why-are-you-so-stubborn it’s-all-your-fault because-I-said-so.

The cords of the Teaching and Weight of the Past twitch and flex; one is cut away only for another to reveal itself twisted and gnarled in places I'd recklessly considered whole and healed. (heel/toe, heel/toe)

I keep trying. Twisting and turning, resolutely ignoring the breadcrumbs of those that carried their wounds before me. If my feet trace the New Way through this carefully enough I must, I MUST!, believe that I am creating a new Pattern over the Dust of the Old.