Departure
She’s travelling on the back of a borrowed waggon,
Pulled by tired horses, being jolted along
A rutted but unbeaten track, into the
hinterland
She had never imagined mapping,
But the landscape has become rugged,
Jagged and unchanging.
Her belongings are spilling
out of the boxes, are tumbling
over the tailgate, falling
by the wayside, into
the dirt, into
the ditches.
She no longer acknowledges the driver,
Just turns her head away, pulling
A blanket around herself and huddling
Into a corner, away from the dank air,
From the creeping fog of early morning,
Wrapping herself in the shrinking
World of herself, in the warm fug of
herself,
Taking a desolate comfort
In arrival.
