I came across this photograph the other day. It is of a young nun in Poland. It's not a particularly great image or even very focused. I snapped it quickly because I noticed she was the only one not walking on the pathways and that struck me. This all too familiar poem came to mind. As I reread it with this image staring at me, it took on a whole new meaning. I wonder what the compelling words might mean to her.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference...Frost
