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Poetry
The Road 🛣️
📅 27 March 2026❤️ 72 likes💬 155 comments🚀 151 times monetized
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
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 marked 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
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✦ Story behind this post
My grandmother traced ancient Tamil Brahmi letters onto my palm, whispering Avvaiyar's wisdom as dust settled on our village path. Each stroke carried generations—poetry that survived empires, etched into stone and soul alike.
"The road tests character," she'd say, teaching me that true reward wasn't applause but understanding. Years later, walking that same dusty path, I recognized strangers nodding—not for validation, but connection.
A child asked me to share those same stories. In her eyes, I saw the reward: continuity. Our heritage lived through shared moments, humble lessons whispered along weathered roads, binding us all together in timeless community.
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