I Wished for a New Kind of Map
I wished for a new kind of map
one marked ‘here dance’ and ‘now crawl here’
a path of bread crumbs to follow to a stream I can drink from
and not fear what’s in it.
I wished for a new kind of map
with no names but only the ones that came to me as I passed
whispered by the trees, the rocks and knowing
I heard them as I hear you.
I wished for a new kind of map
that requires an old canvas swag and a tongue full of songs
no tyre tracks, only spiralling footprints winding the ways
of those who have gone before.
I wished for a new kind of map
changing with each unfolding
what use is a page that tells the same lie each time?
Where’s the journey in that?
I wished for a new kind of map
that might lead me to a different when as well as where
and if I dance where yesterday I walked, I might arrive
in a stranger place than before.
I wished for a new kind of map,
though indeed, it is the oldest kind of all
the soft re-membering of my eyes to places new
yet beloved and long lost.
I wished for a new kind of map
that showed the spaces between the roads, and not the roads at all
and marked the wilds where wilds once were
and marking made them so.
I wished for a new kind of map
in a song I can sing and be sung to
in a story that tells me I am
on a journey that has no end.
a path of bread crumbs to follow to a stream I can drink from
and not fear what’s in it.
I wished for a new kind of map
with no names but only the ones that came to me as I passed
whispered by the trees, the rocks and knowing
I heard them as I hear you.
I wished for a new kind of map
that requires an old canvas swag and a tongue full of songs
no tyre tracks, only spiralling footprints winding the ways
of those who have gone before.
I wished for a new kind of map
changing with each unfolding
what use is a page that tells the same lie each time?
Where’s the journey in that?
I wished for a new kind of map
that might lead me to a different when as well as where
and if I dance where yesterday I walked, I might arrive
in a stranger place than before.
I wished for a new kind of map,
though indeed, it is the oldest kind of all
the soft re-membering of my eyes to places new
yet beloved and long lost.
I wished for a new kind of map
that showed the spaces between the roads, and not the roads at all
and marked the wilds where wilds once were
and marking made them so.
I wished for a new kind of map
in a song I can sing and be sung to
in a story that tells me I am
on a journey that has no end.
Christina Cairns © 2011
12 comments:
these are beautiful words Christina
Dreamweaver began this map of dreams last year
http://mapofdreams.org/
I love it and don't fiddle with it. Leave it just the way it is.
GreaT!!!Don't change a word.Rima's post was lovely too.
I've been absent for awhile but was drawn here by your map. It's a beautiful poem that expresses so well a kind of longing for a different way of being.
It is magical.
Love this.
Rima always inspires magic.
wow! i love it! i wouldn't change a word :)
and i popped over to rima's, read her post, and duly ordered the book!!
thank you so much for this :) xxx
Hello
How surprising and lovely to stumble upon your magical space here. I too am waiting for the new Dark Mountain book to arrive.
Your poem is heartfelt, splendid, ecstatic...
Your map is beautiful.
After I read of your map, I followed your link to Rima's map. Thankyou.
Beautiful...:)
I love Rima's blog too..:)
MiA - the map of our unique soul? B
I was very inspired by Rima's post and the Dark Mountain Manifesto and now, by chance, I've stumbled across your map which echoes those same feelings and longings very beautifully :)
I love the concept of a mermaid in the attic as well...Perhaps I'm one...my studio is in the attic and I'm a Pisces :)
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