The Trail That Beckons
The last couple of weeks have felt like a blur, full of tasks, deadlines, and the constant hum of what’s next. Somewhere along the way, I realized I was barely taking a full breath, let alone making time to slow down and be.
Then I remembered this photo I took not long ago, a winding trail in the quiet woods, the light falling just right, the trees standing like old friends with no expectations. I didn’t know at the time how much I’d need to return to it, even if just in my mind.
This poem came out of that need. Out of the ache to step off the treadmill of urgency and back into the stillness that asks for nothing, only presence.
The Trail That Beckons
Not every journey needs a destination.
Not every footfall must declare intent.
Some walkways exist for the art of pausing,
For hearing whispers the old wood sent.
Here, where bark breathes stories into twilight
And shadows pool like cool, dark wine,
The quiet holds more than silence.
It cradles what you came to find.
Ferns uncurl without ambition.
The earth asks nothing but your weight.
It waits with dirt-stained invitation
For hearts too heavy with their freight.
This is not where medals are gathered,
Or where the hurried voices roar.
It’s where you come when you’ve forgotten
What all that striving was even for.
So settle. Let your shoulders loosen.
The world’s demands can take their turn.
Here, beneath these ancient watchers,
You remember how to simply burn.
Not with fever, but with wonder,
Not with rush, but with release.
The trail returns what you've been missing:
The forgotten gift of peace.
Have you felt that same call to slow down lately? Do you have a trail or quiet place that gives you space to breathe again? Feel free to share your thoughts or your own quiet places in the comments.
