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'Maps' by Holly Ordway

Yesterday, the poem for the day was 'Maps' by Holly Ordway, and I think it's just wonderful.  See what you think



Antique maps, with curlicues of ink

As borders, framing what we know, like pages

From a book of travelers’ tales: look,

Here in the margin, tiny ships at sail.

No-nonsense maps from family trips: each state

Traced out in color-coded numbered highways,

A web of roads with labeled city-dots

Punctuating the route and its slow stories.

Now GPS puts me right at the center,

A Ptolemaic shift in my perspective.

Pinned where I am, right now, somewhere, I turn

And turn to orient myself. I have

Directions calculated, maps at hand:

Hopelessly lost till I look up at last.


The writer is an academic who journeyed from atheism to Christainity, finding a home in Roman Catholicism, and I am intrigued and excited at the prospect of reading her memoire of this in 'Not God's Type, An Atheist Academic Lays Down her Arms'

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