Shaking my Fist at Robert Frost

I was taken in
By the myth of roads taken
And untaken
As I traveled on roads
I thought
Were only taken by me.

But see,
Others have traveled -
Marked footprints in the sand -
Roads next to mine.

And I am the same
As any who has to decide:
Direction and road
Sane and safe

Insanity is only defined in an outcome

I shake my fist at you
Robert Frost
Your words deceived me for too long
In their charm of snowy rides
Horse drawn carriages
Sunny, grassy asides
I failed to sink deeper
Into the weave
The dark of your literal blanket
Finding gladness in roads
Both traveled and untaken
I left behind

Confronting me now
The miles I have been awake

 

Charity C. Tran is a Los Angeles native who frequents public transit, arts, and culture. A graduate of USC's Master of Professional Writing Program, she has published in Mused, Toasted Cheese Literary Journal, and the national journal Main Street News.  Recently, she was an honorable mention in Glimmer Train's Very Short Fiction Contest.  You can follow her on twitter (@charitytran) or read her blog at http://www.charitytran.com.