Reflection #57 Regrets

Part of me longs to believe
my story stands alone—
a solitary path worn by singular feet,
a life unlike any other.

Now the years remind me
that every heart has wandered;
the stumbling, the searching,
the endless becoming.

There are seasons I would not repeat—
the restless fires of younger decades,
the noise, the urgency,
the unnecessary tangles.

Yet I would not erase them,
for each mistake became a doorway,
each wound an opening,
each loss a deeper listening.

The years have softened me,
gentle with all that has been,
thankful for the journey,
grateful for what remains.

—Patricia D. Brown