Who folded my map <br />before I'd even taken bearings? <br /> <br />I've tramped roads just <br />because they look like ways <br />I should go. <br /> <br />These creases are <br />unseemly foldings. <br />Who folded this map? <br /> <br />This mountain. <br />Was it meant for me? <br />See that river? <br />I can't swim. Wasn't taught. <br />Ought I to cross? Plunge under? <br />With this weight? <br /> <br />And deadends. <br /> <br />Who folded this map? <br /> <br />Slide it into my pocket <br />for its all I have. <br /> <br />I'll follow the smudged lines <br />and guess the way. <br /> <br />Or I might just shuffle off the page.<br /><br />James Mills<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/directions/
