Cartography

I need to wander to a place unknown
Where the pads of my feet have no memory
And have left no imprint in the grains of sand
Or worn wooden planks that edge a particular sea,

My eyes hold no trace of reflected lightning
And no thunder has made my body shudder,
There is no echo of laughter haunting the walls
No shadow of a sun set behind some horizon.

Is there a land where the moon and stars are different
from those that have arched lovingly above my windblown hair?

Some place where the blue of the water and the sky
is just that one shade more true and tender?

Where the earth itself breathes a poignant richness
into softer air than has ever caressed my throat?

It is time to look
for a new map.

 

 (Submitted for Poet’s Rally – Week 37)