Destiny
If I turn back at least I shall not have the sun in my face. But then there will always be the long shadow of myself before me.
If I turn back at least I shall not have the sun in my face. But then there will always be the long shadow of myself before me.
Here is a small decision that turns into a trap. The speaker imagines turning around to avoid the glare of the sun, a sensible, almost practical thought. But the relief comes with a catch: once the sun is behind, her own long shadow stretches out ahead, impossible to escape.
The title, "Destiny," suggests the poem is about more than walking in sunlight. Whichever way she faces, something unpleasant is waiting. Facing forward means being dazzled; turning back means being followed, or rather led, by the dark outline of herself. The shadow can be read as the self we can't get away from, with our own doubts, past, or limits. The poem doesn't say which, and it doesn't need to.
The mood is quiet, resigned, and a little wry. There's no panic or complaint in the plain, measured lines, only the calm recognition that avoiding one discomfort simply hands you another. The speaker seems to accept that some burdens come along no matter which direction you choose.