I was often
envious
of those that knew which road to choose,
walking it like a familiar memory,
while I would stumble and fall.
I blindly moved forward.
Sometimes taking too long,
to pick myself up,
bruised and scraped
backtracking
wandering
and
making up for lost time
in both lightness
and
overwhelming darkness
I would pray for a sign,
a compass
to give me direction,
as the sun and moon
exchanged glances
But somewhere along my journey,
envy went missing
and
now I often pass by those
that knew their way-
voraciously attempting
to trace their steps
back to the road they came from
Searching
for the wrong turn they made
ragged
blinded
by
their mistakes
As I look back at the view
of my trail
from where I have risen
after every fall
and I see my bruises and scrapes
that created a map
I notice its key
identifying pitfalls and battlegrounds
mountaintops
valleys
and
rivers that flow effortlessly
and I find myself
at peace.