The road he curved with his own two hands
He draws lines upon your body
Maps out the places he has travelled
Places where his hands
Have skimmed the surface of your skin
The lines meet, join together
And he thinks he knows you
By the fingerprints he leaves behind
But your body has been travelled by many
Offered to every sojourner
In the hope one will stay long enough
To stray from the well worn roads of your flesh
To the unknown paths of your soul
Dear heart,
You don’t need a traveller
One who seeks a warm bed to spend the night
Before he continues on his way
You need a goddamn pioneer
One who longs to unearth places in you not yet found
Who is without fear of the tangled wilderness he’ll find beneath your skin
Who prefers the uneven crags of your heart
And the deep murkiness of your soul
An explorer
Who covers his hands in the dirt of your essence
And drips in the sweat of your being
Before he finds his way home
Settled in the depth of your core
On the road he carved with his own two hands.
By Kathy Parker
About the author
Warrior. Dreamer. Creator. Writer. Fighter for all that is beautiful and good. Advocate for the underdog. Truth-teller. Empath. Yogi. Passionate soul. Lover of land and ocean. Coffee drinker. Gentle spirit. Wild heart. Word Alchemist.
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