On Passages Through the Woods

                                   There were passages through the woods
                                    I could not see from there
but when I  turned around to look
I saw them lying where
my silhouette had split the light
and tunneled through the winter’s night.

No one had told me where to walk.
I had to find the way
and as I went I taught myself
to hope that each new day
would offer other ways to find
and other paths to search for, blind.

I go now, but remember this
(and never say I told):
love is surer than a map
through dark woods in the cold
it leads, till sight has verified
sunshine on the other side.

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