Bobi Andrews - Writer

                    ROAD TOO NARROW
                      Barbara  A. Andrews


The roads of my ancestors were rocky and narrow
Winding through earth’s contours.
Mountains above, crevices below
Each turn unknown but to the creator.

Trails entered forests and emerged as plains
Travelers lost amid the trees
Wild grasses deep in the ground
To defy the stick and the plow.

Yet each upon the trail had a dream
A calling to life just over the hill.
At day’s end, his dream unabated
To forge ahead to tomorrow’s tomorrow.

The dreams of our dreamers did not know
Bottomless swamps and endless cane.
Rivers too swift and wide to cross,
To perilous shores across the way.

The dreams of our dreamers were rooted in faith
Their cause was right—their destiny ahead,
The turns in the road awaiting a choice
Not slowed by a road too narrow.

Life for me, a trail, tedious and slow
Will I travel it, where will I go.
To choose among its many turns
To which way or that way, I do not know.

Will I pass life’s twisted turns
To challenge a road found far too narrow
Trapped within my mind’s impasse
To rise from the comfort of the known.

How many songs remained unsung
How many footsteps missed the dance
How many unknown friends were let to pass
How many dreams ended at morn?

As life advances to a predictable end
And memory recalls the roads that were
A question remains for me to ponder
Have I pursued a road too narrow?