The journey

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice— though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend the rift,” “Fill the spaces,” “Get yourself back to where you belong.” Though you shook with loss and you kept on asking, as you stood at the corner, “Why did you leave? What was wrong with me?”

But it was too late. You kept on walking, your knees weak from taking every step from the heart. You walked toward the sky. If you had cried, would it have made it any better? But, no, you didn’t cry, you were lost in it, rendered with time.

And this is the journey— year after year, into the better wherever it may lead. Down through the rocks and to the wide sea.

You don’t know where the journey takes you, you just know you have to be on your way. You just know it is time.

• Mary Oliver