I ask myself what
will become of this
life I’ve led as if life
were a willful dog
on a taut leash
following behind me,
its master, or a blind pony
unable to find home
without a gentle tug
and words of encouragement,
as if life were an army
of weary foot soldiers
and I, its brave captain,
spend my days urging them
onward, as if I headed out,
eyes open, nose first,
with a plan or a map,
or a firm sense of purpose,
on the day of my birth.
