A Poem About Finding My Way Through My Past

Anonymous Genoese portolan chart from c. 1325 ...

Anonymous Genoese portolan chart from c. 1325 to c. 1350. (Library of Congress, Washington DC) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Those of you following for four months or more know that life has thrown some interesting curves my way. Things about my past I once thought I could rely on I am no longer certain I can. One of the most important relationships in my life has been called into question. I have been doing my best to deal with it. Overall, I think I have done a good job, but I have to get it out, I have to let the world know, in my way, what this has done to me. I have to howl at the moon and the monsters and hope I can scare them off. I have to tear these feelings out my chest, turning them first into words, then into stone, and maybe into gems. Who knows? I know I feel better just doing it, and that, I suppose, is enough.

Crippled Cartography

I cannot see
the path
from what was
to what will be

Tangled
knotted
walkways
turning in on themselves
twisting into obscurity

What am I
if not the traveler
lost with the map you scribbled

I no longer can find the benchmarks
you have left them smudged
but still I know they are there

You have guided me
to
and in
the dark
past
and to
the light

I know not what lessons
I can ascribe to you anymore
the mistakes and miracles
of being led into adulthood

I am left wondering
left wandering
unsure of my footing
because you have left the map in doubt

I know there is a treasure in it
somewhere
I know you have given me gold
and not just lead
but both weigh me down
both leave me tired
yet stronger

You have stumbled where I cannot follow
yet left me with this marred parchment
and I will let it lead me
as best I can
and hope that I am not swallowed
by the hazards and havens
I hope I can make my own way
I dream that you find yours
and perhaps
we can meet once again

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