Pilgrim Mid-journey

See that morning figure

moving into a breeze

that bends through stems

of sunlight and color,

now imperfect,

now impossible,

now still in love with the path

even though the map burned

up long ago?

Not every route can be fixed.

Not every question needs an answer.

Not every holy epiphany is photogenic.

It’s slow. It’s raw.

It’s courage without certainty.

It’s one step, then another, until

they become a prayer that sounds like,

“I don’t know. But I’m still listening.

 I don’t know. But I’ll keep listening.”