My compass is slightly askew;
my map buried somewhere
under textbooks, Liam’s soccer kit
a yoga mat, recipe clippings, a to-do
list far too old to be relevant.
I pull up to my house in between class and many, many things and rest my head on the steering wheel,
in this in-between moment.
I listen to my breath draw in and out,
feel my heart thump out my personal
I am not quite sure what comes next,
nor if I am ready for it.
Each day a bewildering conglomeration of mostly lovely,
sometimes mundane tasks that tumble
out before me like spilled blossoms, opening in the sun.
I gather what I can,
careful not to crush the budding joy,
sweet blessings that I have.
I continue ever-forward, mapless.
Does anyone’s compass always point to their true north?
Or are we all wanderers, doing our best from day to day
to salvage the good, mend the mistakes,
move forward from the blunders?
One more deep breath, and I open my eyes, open the door.
Step out, into the ever-surprising day,
The sun warms my face, and I move forward,
gently gathering up the blooms of life as I go.
Author: Keeley Milne
Editor: Toby Israel