Hands and Maps

We draw the world
 as if it could be known. 

We chart by hand:
one open, 
one clawing.

We draw our maps
over other maps,
each line 
crossing other lives,
other dreams 
other directions.

The paper thins
where hope has been erased
and redrawn too many times.

Our maps are colored
with the ink of longing
where seas meet
the shores,
and the shores
are endless.