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  • Ivy Wagner


All its wild colors stunned me that night,

Or maybe it was a night in the future, I anticipated –

The colors splattered on the sky as the stars

began to undress for the night.

That night,

if it was the colors – the hues that glistened with magic, or the rocky path ahead,

I decided to verve to the left.

I had always gone right

and right

and right.

I wanted someday, one day, to go wrong.

Down the wrong path, that led me straight into my love song.

I often heard it as the crickets chirped, the fireflies flickered, the waves crashed onto the beach, the trees moved in the wind.

And that night, I overheard it in laughter, a strong outbreak of giggles that were harmonized by snorts from catching one’s breath.

I walked off the path a bit, wishing to find the owner of the laughter.

Maybe it was too dark.

Or not quite dark enough.

I never found the one whose delight delighted me – yet the detour led me to a small opening, which I followed to the left, and I heard my love song more clearly, with richer tones.

It swirled in the clouds and dropped like honey rain, slowly, a bit sweet, and satisfying to the leaves waiting for a bath, after dusty, dry days.

And the refrain it echoed, until my ears could hear.

“The jar wasn’t made to be put on a shelf.

Open it. Open it.

The journey wasn’t made on only sunny days.

Dance in the rain. Dance in the rain.

Love wasn’t created only to be given.

Receive it. Receive it.

Hot air balloons aren’t happy tethered to the ground.

Fly with them. Fly with them.

And the gems aren’t to be kept in a box.

Treasure them. Treasure them.”

Up ahead, there was another fork in the path.

I went left, of course, anticipating the delightful freedom of being held by my love song.

I laid down across the path and rested for the night.

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