I started a different journey a while back. I had been travelling with the comrade of my choice* on a wide and even path, grassy and tree lined. Sunshine and blue skies were above, singing birds and refreshing rainshowers crossed our path. Hope travelled in a carriage beside us, and dreams sparkled ahead. But a storm came and swept my beloved away, and I was thrown on to a different path. Now I walk on stony, muddy ground. The path twists and rises and falls, and there is darkness on either side. I can't see ahead. Friends appear on the banks, reach their hands out and pass me strength. Our children walk with me, under the canopy of my tears. Together we encounter fires along the way, and they leap away from the sparks, afraid. But the sunshine seems to find them too. Its rays drop through the darkness and they alone glow with light. I hold their bodies tight, to soak up the warmth. I think we are looking for shelter, or a change in the path, but I don't know what it looks like or how it can come in this new world. It won't be the road I used to travel.
*"Comrade of my choice" - Tennyson in "In Memoriam"