Lost map

There are no maps for grief.
There are unexplored lakes, uncharted rivers,
mountains where you may be lost for days.
Welcoming warm bothies for a refuge from the storm,
before you return to traverse desolate plains.
There are half-remembered safe houses where you expected a roaring fire
but found the grate long grown cold.
There are forests so deep that you
fear you’ll never reach the other side.
There are places where the sun shines on the snow and the world shatters a little
with the sheer beauty of it.
There are places where you can visit and love and feel found
and never be able to return.
There are no helpful markers saying ‘you are here’
or ‘you are safe.’
Sometimes there are fellow travellers and you can walk
a little way together and then part.
Their paths will not follow yours.

I’m sorry sweet one, you have to walk alone.