Map

Bright day, hard frost, I have to
screw my eyes up against
the morning sun, grass
white, bird bath frozen, the
drumming call of the
woodpecker clear through the air.
A chorus of song.  Clocks

change today:  altered time,
Easter is coming, if only
I could rise from my black
cloths, live in the sunlight
at ease with all my past.
She is not here to grant
absolution - I need to live,

know, that somewhere
there is love and understanding
for all I did
for all I am.  New day
comes clean to the palm -
hope of achievement, each
dig a step forward.  There
are no bad roads, only
a life with no maps.

previous poem

next poem