«I walk» by Julie A. Dickson

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I walk

They follow me
down this winding path
feeling both guardians
and stalkers, watching
my every step as if

they know where I go,
even if I do not; hands
shoved deep into pockets
for warmth, or to hide
the shaking I can’t stop.

I walk slowly, a lone figure
between fields and patchy
trees, swooping noisily as if
to warn or greet, I’m unsure
which, but I feel less alone,

more like being escorted
into unknown territory,
back to the past, moving
ever forward toward something
unseen. The snow lies serenely

quiet; my footsteps mar the cold
silence, rhythmic crunch along
this path I do not know, I plod
along, their shadows are my
companion, pushing me on.

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