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these are the stories of my life
hessian-wrapped stones, tied
to my waist, leaving furrows
in my wake. a tiny creative
adventure rustles in my bag; whispering
of places we’ve yet to discover.

some things were never meant
to come with me this far:

• the book of lies i tell myself,
• fingerprints from a house i no longer own
• a relationship never given the proper funeral
• gifts that were returned when we stopped speaking.

my feet make indentations in fields
sown with adventure, danger, potential, defeat.
there’s a chance that the blues
will go grey, the browns will turn green….
and i step on towards the
suddenness of change.