Photo: Canva.com
Maps
You carried me on your back
Before I could walk
I could see
Your measured, methodical walk,
As I grew up,
I followed the footprints,
Jumping to gauge the width,
Through rain and drought-stricken ground,
I followed you.
Now, the footprints have been washed away,
Through death,
Now,
I look up to the stars,
To find your route, a map, a consolation in the constellations,
The sand precedent has become a star-directed route.