by on January 28, 2024 :: 0 comments

I’m doing fabulously well.
Have you noticed?
As I stumble over roots,
Reaching out to English yew,
Supple leaves in grasping hands.

Yes, I’ve met deadends
And of course, I am not yet
At the center.


Mazes are not supposed to be rushed.
They are supposed to be enjoyed,
The mystery delighted in,
The failures embraced,
And all the secrets slowly, gently
Like teasing a lover
With too many poems.

So you see,
I am indeed doing exactly as I planned
Even as I get turned around once again,
Lost and confused in haphazard guessing.
Clearly I am no closer
To being ‘done.’

But I’m in no rush.
Why else would I have entered
In the

– Holly Payne-Strange

editors note:

If not in it for love, we’re ‘done’ for. – mh clay

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