ma carte

Looking backwards
an astronaut sees his/her world
there?s shuttling, there?s bussing:
s/he sees little detail amongst the blur.

But life: it?s there
wrapped around canyons, cradled and cuddled by cliffs
melting in mountains and pressed into the prairies
Zoom down in
Into the abyss
And notice how happy it is in the heart.

The flickering may confuse other passengers
Sometimes signals for cushioning flash in anticipation
Of any hint of a crash
Sometimes vacuum-sealed thoughts emerge and
float unkempt around this hull
sometimes it?s not clear from the stars? alignment
whether the way forward should be up or down.

It doesn?t take too long in an alien pub
to know exactly what lingers for everyone.
my, to tap the kinetic energy of this realisation:
There is a map.

I like to think
Every astronaut finds it eventually
Even when clouds across the sky prevent landing
Even when rays of light blind and bewilder
Even when every religion?s reference to destiny runs dry

My map
was stored neatly, written on modern day parchment
and bored for its unfolding,
but, oh! what a christmas morning this has become.