Head North My Child

Pushing harsh branches away from my face

I take several more steps into the forest

Lifting my feet gently as to not trip

Against another root wandering above ground

Plotting my course carefully as not to be fooled

By more false trails which lure me away

From my Destination

My eyes dart through the trees

I want nothing more than to find

A path to guide me straight to the North

Even though my experience tells me

That paths take my eyes off the Compass

I come to a clearing with an opening headed North

In it, I find a tree stump, was it caused by nature

Or used for firewood by a traveler like myself?

I decide, against myself, to follow the opening of the trail

North, I check my compass.

Everything is in order.

I take a drink from my canteen and begin.

I hit a tree in the center of the trail

I curve around it, my pace is quickening

Trees around me blur into green

As the path before me becomes my focus

The path is widening

I’m close, I can feel it

Accelerating, I drop my canteen.

I’m almost out, I’m almost to the North

I put my Compass in my pocket,

Weaving between the trees in my way

There is a pile of leaves on the ground

My foot moves through it.

I lose it all.

My foot hooks into a root in the leaves

I fall flat on my face

I’m bleeding, my arm has hit a bush

And my leg is in pain

The Compass had dug in deep

I pull the Compass from my pocket

The glass is shattered and the arrow is bent

The Compass I can mend.

But it clearly points to west

As the direction I’ve been traveling

I know that it’s right.

I stand up and brush myself off

I was distracted again.

I point myself to North.

I have no more water.

I have no more strength.

I have no more will.

I take the first steps in the right direction

Though tears of regret run down my dirty face.