Pure illusion this movement forward, no entourage,
or chattel to carry me, what we never said haunts
me with the strongest memories.
No mountains to climb on my current agenda
the river never crossed was a stone bridge, not a
wooden covered one, how I remembered it.
Trail blaze, to make a new path geological
maps are helpful, sometimes the goal is an
illusion. People talk but what do they say—
impossible to know what anyone means—
sitting with tears your heart brain knows
the answer. Something new must form outside
normal procedure. Yesterday was exactly like
today. It can be difficult to make a new map,
to reconstruct those early years if you did not
keep an outline of your life. Move one day at a
time, let go the mercenary dream, how
much we want but never achieve. Accept
the surprise violets in this long forward
dream. The call of the unspoken, we could have
been closer, or said I love you one more time.
– Julene Tripp Weaver
editors note: Embrace those surprise violets. Let the map make itself. – mh clay