I tell six women on a too-early
Saturday morning, as they tug
on gloves, wrap themselves
in scarves to head into the chill
of a winter morning to walk
a circuitous route to the center
of a labyrinth and then back out
again.

Even if you think you’re alone,
you’re not. As you step carefully
along the path, you’ll likely brush
by another going the opposite
direction.

As in life.

Everything’s a metaphor on the labyrinth,
even the sky-bursting blue before
tomorrow’s unimaginable,
predicted pourdown.

We walk.
We walk.

We breathe and smile as we circle,
as we pivot the hard turns—
the same path in, the same path out,
though it never looks the same.

And though we usually don’t know
we’re about to reach the end
until we do, when we emerge,
blinking, after our journey,

we look around at others waiting,
welcoming us, which, both
literally and metaphorically,
reminds us that we are accompanied
by those seen and unseen

as we traverse these
twisting, turning lifetimes.

•••

With thanks to Rev. Lucy Bunch for inviting me to facilitate a Labyrinth Walk & Write at Mercy Center, Auburn, California, as part of the Unitarian Universalist Society of Sacramento’s women’s retreat. And with gratitude to the Reverend Dr. Lauren Artress for her vision in bringing the labyrinth back into use in the modern world.