Footprints
by she-who-must-not-be-named
I wander.
Endlessly, I wander.
Ceaselessly, I walk.
Forever more, I go on.
How many ways can I depict my unrest to you?
Footprints are the timeline of my life.
Where I’ve been, the mistakes and wrong turns I’ve made.
The people who have walked in.
The people who have walked out.
They are etched in the ground, broken in by my feet.
Every so often, a second set of footprints joins mine.
Some go on for months, years.
Those are my favorites.
But they never really last.
Most dip in and out of my path.
Some lead me in circles until I have to leave them behind.
You never know what steps are the right ones
Until you’re looking back at them, behind you.
I wander.
I search.
I trust.
And then, I hurt.
Of these steps I am sometimes wary,
But the set of prints next to mine makes me sure footed, now.
I squint to look ahead, but my vision is terrible.
I can’t be sure, but it seems that there are many sets of prints ahead.
Strong, deep, sure-footed paths are carved out in the future.
Please, take me there.
Please, do not lead me astray.
I don’t want to have look back to judge the way you stroll by my side.
Do not waiver now; I haven’t got time for circles any longer.