for Coley Campany
Each morning over coffee she unrolls
The great map of her life, and fills it in,
Marking last night’s path till there are no holes
And she can see exactly where she’s been.
Then she regards that looming blank expanse
That doesn’t have a signpost or a street:
Her future—into which she must advance
Blind and scared that empty means incomplete.
Her mother’s map was dead ends and lost chances
Written by husband’s and by children’s hands.
Her pen’s her own, and with it she advances
Into the unknown—for she understands
When all that emptiness gets mapped behind her,
The destination in her soul will find her.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells