The Journey

The Journey, by David Whyte

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
enscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes
of your life.

You are not leaving.
Even as the light
fades quickly.
You are arriving.

I love this poem. Ever since I was 14 or 15 I 've written poetry. I love it. It's like opening a shut window of your soul and letting everything out. After watching American Idol last night and seeing how each singer has been singing since they were little, I asked myself what have I done since I was younger? I have written. Stories. Poetry. And now- blogs. I am a writer. And proud of it.

This is my blog. My name is Megan Abbott.