Divided

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Divided

By Dakota Whitford

Time and time again, many times that I have smiled, and my eyes have wept. I take another listen to the winds and hear what secrets that they have once again kept. Until when shall I look back on the untravelled road I have left? Long ago, even though I had thought of it holding its very own breath. I will forever hold my own breath knowing the other untravelled road will be forever missed.

There I stood upon the two roads, as lively as I could’ve been. Hoping to find a home where there is never no end. I have grown to realize it is traveling roads that are now gold, which came from stone along its bend. Truly I’ll know if I call the journey home and my friend I’ll take a leap and let it whisper secrets along with me till the happily bitter end. I’ll find peace between, longing this very meet. Until then… seek.

I have traveled a road and wondered about home for too long. I have asked and have played many of songs. A long journey it is and sought out quite abroad. Many roads I have seen but many I have not. Which to choose and which to walk upon? A step in the depth of the unknown I’ll surely know the cause. Once I take a leap of faith ill know the more untravelled roads and which one it will be.

Poets Note:

First and foremost, Love for the audience who stumble across my writing. Much thanks and appreciation to the admins and the people besides. this note which is not part of the poem itself and neither is the Robert Frost poem. I wanted to take this opportunity to briefly dive deeper into the personal meaning of the poem that I have written and share thoughts on where this came from.

Personally, as I have always been, it is nothing but metaphors for poetry and reflections of oneself. Other writing such as short stories, it has been straightforward as far as I have realized. For this poem in general I have written it backward. It wasn’t what I wanted but that story poetically told itself how it wanted to be told.

It is a story of someone who is lost to having an opportunity but ends up being lost. In other words, Home is the journey itself and seeing the choice that I have personally made. Home to me is feeling lost or found at the end of the road. Home to me is not a person, place, or thing because it has always changed time and time again. I have always known many people who have left and have been to places to stay, one after another but there is a feeling in walking a chosen road/ journey. Looking back and seeing how the days have unfolded and somehow worked, there is a content feeling in each footstep that I personally take. Suppose to me… home is constant steps forward on the road I have chosen to walk upon.