The nursery rhyme says
Thursday’s Child has far to go

but leaves interpretation open
to distances yet to be

she wonders then if it could
have been a self-fulfilling prophecy

her traveling so many trails
blazing them in fact with raw desire

hoping for love and acceptance
some miniscule serving even

of items to be tucked in her pack
for survival in case she got lost (again)

confidence snuggled in beside her
Leatherman’s Tool and a mort

of sheer doggedness (okay call it
stubborn) next to the granola

wants some more bandages
to wrap around her heart big

enough to cushion it from so
much of what weighs her down

as she steps out gets breathless
reaching for her prescribed panaceas

that she can’t do without even
if she wanted to leave them behind

so she tries every day to determine
what ‘far to go’ might encompass

puts one foot ahead of the other
and ties bits of her hair onto limbs

good at least for birds’ nests in case
she misses the blaze losing her way home.