Tracks I Leave
The tracks I leave
are made of words.
Behind me, years of poems
show my path in a snowy woods.
The shape of my story
is curly with turning script.
Oh life of gifts, so soon
I will whistle free of form
to be kin with wind.
Tracks of descendants, then,
I will watch with love
at the side of all my ancestors.
Without a body anchor,
my trust in the whole will become
stronger for being tethered to nothing.
In the trackless expanse of After,
I will smile with my sister wind
at the little path of words I leave behind.
©Susa Silvermarie 2022
Your path of words is not “little” it is prodigious! This is a beautiful expression of your knowledge of artistic legacy and such a glorious way of talking about leaving the actual body behind (but the “body of work” remains. Love this!