May 12, 2011 12:32
The tattered map in my hand
reminds me I have gone on this journey before
My shoes covered in mud
from the beaten path I have taken
I stand on the edge of a valley
with overgrown trees that darken its full interiors
My map is marked
with the pitfalls of my previous trip
I look at the mud on my shoes, I look at the drop below
The path down is easier than the path back up
So I will sit here for a while
to clean my shoes, to prepare for my next steps
poetry,
depression,
heal