Making Maps

plotting a mid-life path--written in Lune form

MAKING MAPS

A map of my heart,
just the crust,
sticky and fluid.

Bipolar yearnings,
no borders,
a small compass rose.

Current position,
still holding,
surrendered to change.

Daily, tiny deaths,
descansos,
marking the crossroads.

Even so, hope floats
at trail's end.
Grace takes little space.


Author's note: Descansos are the small roadside memorials left by highways for those who have died in traffic accidents.


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