A Traveler’s Tale
There comes a time in every traveler’s life when she faces a fork in the road.
The right path is familiar, well worn and easy to follow.
Destination: Home.
On this path, her friends plant daisies and wrap her in warmth when she is cold.
There is a cottage in the woods with a garden. She would be content.
The left path is uncharted, covered with stones.
To follow it will be challenging.
Destination: Unknown.
But it has mountains and waterfalls and the promise of adventure.
All the flowers grow wild. There is a cliff and a big leap of faith.
She may fly or she may fall. Either way, she will be fulfilled.
The traveler is plagued by what-ifs and doubt.
What if she doesn’t make it? What if every leap and struggle isn’t enough?
She forgets she has done this before. This traveler has pushed through immovable
mountains and swam across impassable rivers. What are a few more?
Something calls to her at the end of this journey. Something new.
She will never know what it is if she doesn’t follow it.
When you face your fork, remember:
Choosing one path does not mean the other disappears. The cottage
in the woods and the warm embrace of friends will still be there.
Your seat at my table will always be open for when you return.
For now, tie your hair up and lace your shoes.
Follow that call.
Your real journey is just beginning.
Flashbulbs
I. The moon illuminates the lake, the fullest it’s ever been. You feel naked, swimming in the dark. You know you are not. Your friends splash around you, diving to the bottom and resurfacing to see the stars. You are sixteen; this is your summer of growth. This is the most alive you have ever felt. You wonder if you will feel this togetherness for all your lives, and how you will spend tomorrow.
II. You are lying in the dark, half-drunk or maybe not. Her music makes your heart race. She touches you tenderly, like you are the fondest thing she’s ever known. She kisses you and it is a sigh of relief. She sings words against your lips and you want to beg her for more. You want to understand her. You want to stop leaving such temporary marks – to be permanent. You do not think anything exists outside this moment. She knows better.
III. The stillness of the night makes you nervous. This is the first time you’ve met. He is holding you like he doesn’t know you are fragile. For a moment, you learn not to be. You do not think about your body and being trapped in it, about tomorrow’s guilt or the parts of you this could break/this could heal. You have never been more sure nor less certain. You open up for him like it is the bravest thing you’ve ever done. It is. It is. He does not say he loves you because he doesn’t. You’ve just met. This is the most honest any lover has been with you. He says you deserve to be the woman you are and you believe him.
Me, the Sanctuary
I am a sanctuary. I take in all the wandering problems with nowhere to go;
orphaned dreams beg for refuge in my chest. How can I turn them away?
I can say “I will stop sacrificing myself for others” as much as I want,
but they are just words. I cannot deny the devastating euphoria of giving.
I say please, sorry, and thank you like a second language. The only difference
between a church and I is that God can close His doors whenever He likes.
My doors don’t even have hinges, permanently swung open with a ribbon-
wrapped sign reading ‘take whatever you may want! I will give until I give
up!’ Even still, this is not enough. There is dust lining my bookshelves and
all my windows are stained with blood. I am a sanctuary, but this
endless giving was never beautiful. It was never art. It was only violent
and demanding. Standing here, match in hand,
I watch the refuge burn.
Kylee Harzman is a senior studying Criminal Justice and Psychology at Northwestern Oklahoma State University. She has been passionate about creative writing and poetry since learning to read and write. She was accepted to the esteemed Oklahoma Summer Arts Institute in 2018, 2019, and 2020, and serves as the president of her university’s creative writing club, Writers’ Roundtable. She hopes this publication will be the first of many and looks forward to sharing her stories with the world.