Heading West by Claire Ibarra

Sometimes Life turns feral. Sometimes it snarls and hisses in your face. I woke from a deep sleep to find mine had gnawed and clawed through the door, it jumped the fence, taking a backwoods trail, leaving only faint tracks behind. Perhaps it seeks refuge from the winter storm.

I look to the constellations,

to the rising and setting sun,

to the lopsided curve of the waxing moon,

to the tilt of the rotating Earth.

I look to my compass and map,

and now head west to find it.

By Claire Ibarra

www.poeticphotoprints.com

www.claireibarra.com