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Mary Frederick Ahearn

Lost

Again, I dream of getting lost. In sleep, I conjure up busy highways, multi-laned with too many exits, hard to read signs, and northbound, southbound arrows pointing in the same direction. Ramps veer traffic off to points unknown, somewhere yet nowhere. Any landmarks I hope to recognize are altered, alien, or simply gone. I’ve lost my way again as the moon waxes and memories fill the night .

stranded
the confusion of the compass
when east is west
the North Star, diminished,
turns green then red

It’s the anniversary of that last week, the one that left me on the road alone. We had navigated the way through months of treatments, appointments, tests, and more, together. Too soon it became apparent that the road ahead was going down to a single lane with only one possible exit, the journey’s end. We had stayed the course and it was done. Early in the morning, you took that final mile without me, letting go of the wheel at last. Departure and destination became one and the same.

endings
at the turn of the year
and the twist of the road
one journey ends
another begins

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About the Author

Mary Frederick Ahearn lives in Pottstown, Pennsylvania. “Writing is a great joy to me, and with it, the interaction with wonderful poets from all over the world. Reading, photography, and being out in the natural world are delights and solace for this introverted soul.”