Finding my Way
I got lost the other day. It was my own fault.
I wasn’t paying attention to the directions.
I went on for hours, not realizing at first
the mess I’d got myself into. Only gradually
I came aware that I’d turned the wrong way,
and was on a high and rugged ridge,
and darkness was falling.
I spent that night huddled in a hollow
between two trees, not daring to move
lest I fall into the chasm.
As the sun rose, I remembered the map
in my pocket, and slowly, cautiously picked
out a path back to the marked trail.
I’m in the way-station now, taking nourishment,
resting, regaining strength, renewing courage.
The ranger is showing me on his wall map
the road I’ve already traveled, how far I’ve come
since I first set out. And now he’s pointing out
the way I must take from here, though neither
he nor I know how much farther I have to go.
The first stretch is going to be hard, he says,
and there will be more difficult passages
later on, but I’ll be all right, as long as I follow
the directions and stay on course.
I will find my way home.
Becka Choat is a lifelong lover of words who spends many hours each week in a room of her own, writing or reading and drinking coffee. Her book reviews can be found at www.beckasbookreview.wordpress.com, and her poetry and other musings at www.beckachoat.wordpress.com. You may also follow @beckachoat and/or @booksbybecka on Twitter.