Labyrinth, A Journey

I walk in circles, around and back, around and forth.

There is a beginning, a middle, an end.

Guided by lines of crooked rocks
and an invisible hand on my shoulder,
subtle pressure encouraging me forward.

Take one more step,
Make one more turn,
Move into the center.

And there I stand immobile, my breath fragmented.

The labyrinth’s center, a large pock-marked rock
laden with mementos and memento mori —
small stones, rings and bracelets, a dog tag, holy cards.

Center – the farthest distance from beginning or end.

And so I move on.
No longer walking a slow meditative pace.

I am anxious to leave, ready to bolt, disappear,
still
I do not disregard the worn path,
the unspoken rule of the labyrinth.

I stumble to its exit, blinded, my feet guided by the rocky lines,
and the labyrinth expels me from its sacred interior
into the other world.

The ghost keeps vigil, its eyes the eyes of the cactus wren
perched on the spire of a tree cholla.
Its whisper, low and moaning, travels in the arroyo
carried on swirling winds.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She explores creative photography. poetry, and emotion in a new series featuring desert lines.