I have reached my border,
the northern-most point
I am willing to go.
For months I have asked,
where do I go from here?
Looking at cars with cargo space,
turning over words like
fancier than the truth of my life.
I’ve tucked away the alphabet beads
that spelled journey.
I meant to sew them on a skirt,
I meant to remind myself
that was what I must do.
The other beads I have
spelled out story.
I meant to do that too.
I remember now,
that is what I meant to do.