Poem for the Wandering (5)

I walk alone, in the woods - leaving

everyone behind. All of what and who I know

not here. The mountains beckon my gaze upward. I look

there, then downward. The path

is made clear - in the wilderness. I am led

by markers nailed to trees.

This is the way, walk in it. I turn,

to the right, then the left. The guides are there.

Countless others have gone before me

and I try to follow them. My feet

step over streams and rocks, at times

I want to stop. But I can't, and so

I keep going. I find my way

by walking.