Once feeling begins to leave
An exodus is on the brink
Like some village being
Attacked and the wild flight
For survival begins in the exhaustion
Of running away and the echo
Of a voice well known calls but
In the confusion of the heart
Sounds like an enemy.
When that occurs looking back
Feels like Lot's wife looking over
Her shoulder as she turns to salt
When life lay ahead, beyond.
The only hope one may have
Is to get further ahead of that one
Caught in the throes of exile
And be at a crossroad waiting,
Ready, saying softly,  "This way.
This way."  
                     And a soft, cautious
Fear and flight leaving the eyes and
A "yes"   as the two hands
                                                join once again.