Take these rocks you’ve carried from forever
The ones that make your shoulders ache and tense,
your jaw knot, your stomach a swale.
Now lay them in the sun on this perfect August day.
Let the hurtful damp dry off them and the beauty
of their individual surfaces begin to sparkle.
Make them into a labyrinth, out here near the clothesline
where you hang peaceful laundry
that will smell like pure light and air.
Walk that labyrinth, not with regret for what was or was not,
but with acceptance of what is.
Walk it again and again, edge to center, center to edge.
There’s peace here and earned pride.
You have survived to see this perfect August day,
and your own laundry drying in the sun.
Comments on Friendsjournal.org may be used in the Forum of the print magazine and may be edited for length and clarity.