oh, the maps that get us there,
through turns unmarked.
One map says “adventure”,
another says “security”,
one says “hope”,
another one “destiny”.
It may be said it’s written in the stars,
but who can read the language of skies
that realign words like clues
on a crossword puzzle’s line?
Map the sky, but it’s moving,
map your life, it is changing,
your future, it will surprise you.
You’ll be navigating an uncharted wave,
so let yourself be called “explorer”,
let yourself be called “the brave”.
Accept both stars and oceans deep
and yourself for still standing
when even gravity seems to toss
but you never doubt your landing.
From a collection of poetry called Maps, appearing at this time only here.
Poem 11: during National Poetry Writing Month.
Joining those writing a poem a day during NaPoWriMo.