Issue 10
Hike
Laurel Kirkwood
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Road to Gilead
We do not birth our words.
Instead we speak in tongues,
whisper, hint.
Innuendo and hope
somehow seem more solid.
I am not your compass;
you are not a map.
We are only seekers,
fellow pilgrims
on the road to Gilead.
We have left behind
both weapon and shield,
carry only our audacious children,
fat and brown: dreams
of cool water and shade.
~Laurel Kirkwood
A novice poet, Laurel describes herself as a passionate amateur. Some of her poems have appeared on line at Funny Poets, Retort Magazine, and Hawkwind Literary Journal. She lives in western Michigan with her family. E-mail.
© 2002 by Laurel Kirkwood. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated December 23, 2002.