a week later

wow
a week has past. My birthday seems to be long ago, so many things have happened. This week we were trying to find our authentic voice in my storytelling course.
This poem accompanied us.
I wrote it down from my memory.

The journey (Mary Oliver)

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice
though the whole house began to tremble
and you felt the old tug at your ankles
"Mend my life" each voice cried.
But you didn't stop
You knew what you had to do.
Though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late enough,
and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
and the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds,
there was a new voice,
which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company,
as you strode deeper and deeper into the world,
determined to do the only thing you could do,
determined to save the only life you could save.