Straggler

Perhaps I am a straggler.

Left behind like the few

geese on the lake.

It was only yesterday that

nearly 100 departed together.

In unison, pointing in the direction

of warmth, comfort, and ease.

If this is so, then I surely am

like the minority who’ve stayed behind.

Tentative to take flight.

Afraid of the arduous path.

Hesitant to leave what is

familiar behind.

Do I not see that there is

also pain in the staying?

That by not being sure of myself

I thwart my dreams, dull my senses,

always hold back my magnificence.

Or could I turn my gaze to those

stragglers and see them

as radical revolutionaries?

They have allowed their heartbeat

to dictate their life’s adventure,

knowing when the time is right

for them to take flight.

Besides, perhaps they just

want to stay behind to take in

the haunting beauty of November?

As I look out on the lake,

I see 10 such rebels.

Instead of weakness,

I see courage.

They are listening to

their own inner knowing.

Their wings will spread

when it serves them to do so.

I am a straggler.

Hallelujah!