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Dénouement

Love's mysteries in souls do grow.
          - Seamus Heaney

You connect the dots, ignoring the numbers,

and find a topography of damage,

the breakdown lane scattered with shattered dreams,
recognizable fragments littering the culvert.

You begin counting backwards from 100

as your mother suggested years ago
intimidated by the absence of footholds
yet eager to move on.
Are you happy with whom you've become?
With the self forged by past events?
You're not one to look back.

You grab your backpack, leave your cell,

and begin the trek, mindful of the signposts

for love, for betrayal, for the bagpipes' eerie call.
The voices in your head continue.

Albrecht Dürer