the destination has never been an issue, only
the question of how to get there.
over the years my map has led me
along some strange and irregular paths
but my compass, it stays
set to true north
sometimes when I camp on a clear night
I'll leave the tent packed
so I can stare at the stars while I fall asleep
I dream of the North.
the aurora borealis calls me
like a siren song
and I know that someday I will
wrap myself in those shimmering lights
my feet on the ice
my arms in the sky
a new goddess for them to write into the myths
it's strange when home is
a place you've never been.
you spend your journey there knowing
that every step brings you closer to
the place you'll finally belong
if only you can survive the way there
sometimes the pressure of the cold sky
weighs down on me a little too heavy
and I realize I am here all alone
every morning I wake
with the taste of blood in my mouth.
memories of the moon stay with me
as I take those first few steps
on frozen earth.
every day dawns at a few degrees lower
so I grip my compass
and keep moving up to the horizon