True North


Blown towards a destiny,
The horizon steady, the future not,
Movement sure, the where uncertain,
But in my belly a reliable compass,
A blooming Rose of the Winds,
Though I don't know where I am going,
I know that I am going, the direction clear,
Away from grief, confusion, doubt,
Or at least the fear of them,
I've been shaken by the storm,
Really drenched and cold,
And so I amend, correct, adjust,
Feel the needle waver,
Straighten, pause and point,
Then gently rest upon True North.

November 2001
Virginia Lee Sprague ©2011