It is your way I follow when
there are no parents around
no sages, no wise men
to direct the cause of conviction
–just a meandering bumping toward
some place unnamed and unbargained for.
For you make paths for my feet,
my heart soon to follow.
And the mountain casts shadows here
that are remarkable, and I am small.
I will not be afraid when my toes
stumble and the turns don’t show up on any map.
I yet follow, convinced it won’t be long ‘til
you find me behind you, not even struggling
so hard to keep up.
—jennifer j. camp