Vines

He stands under the garden arch
Hand outstretched. Firm. Strong.
Beckoning me to take it

But I don’t
I can’t see where he’ll lead me

I am safe
Amidst the roses
Meticulously arranged row by row

Outside lies a forest
Tangled vines, creeping shadows
How could anyone ask of me
To leave my comfort. My safety.
And venture into the beyond?

Yet the silhouette waits
Hand still reaching for mine
I’ve felt him there before
When his mystery has nearly breached my walls
And I’ve nearly succumbed to my curiosity

But I don’t
I turn my head

All day I tend these roses
Pluck wilted petals and pull weeds
From the rich soil at their feet
The rose blossoms unrivaled
Not a weed nor vine may grow here

For those belong beyond my walls
Choking life from the trees
I can see suffering there. Death.
I quiver.

I wonder
If I took his hand
Left my own safety and comfort
Stepped into the forest
Could my hands free even a dandelion
From the death grip of these vines?