Paintings by Drea

Paintings by Drea

Dear Heart Comes Home
By Mary Oliver

I keep pulling it out – I keep pulling it out –

The old map of my inner path.

I squint closely at it,

Trying to see some hidden road

That maybe I’ve missed.

But there’s nothing there now

Except some well-traveled paths.

They have seen my footsteps often,

Held my laughter, caught my tears.

I keep going over the old map

But now the roads lead nowhere,

A meaningless wilderness

Where life is dull and futile.

“Toss away the old map,” she says.

“You must be kidding!” I reply.

She looks at me with Sarah eyes

And repeats, “Toss it away.

It’s of no use where you are going.”

“I have to have a map?” I cry.

“Even if it takes me nowhere.

I can’t be without a direction.”

She says, “So why not let go, be free?”

So there I am – tossing away the old map,

Sadly, fearfully, putting it behind me.

“Whatever will I do?” wails my security.

“Trust me” says my mid-life soul.

No map, no specific directions.

No “This way ahead” or “Take a left.”

How will I know where to go?

How will I find my way? No map!

But then my mid-life soul whispers:

“There was a time before maps

When pilgrims traveled by the stars.”

It is time for the pilgrim in me

To travel in the dark,

To learn to read the stars

That shine in my soul

I will walk deeper

Into the dark of my night,

I will wait for the stars,

Trust their guidance,

And let their light be enough for me.

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