Take the compass, by Maureen Hynes

            take the harp, take
the FitBit and the bandaid box. Fold the whole
grey sheet of sky, lumpy and unalluring
into your rucksack. The song of woe, the itch,
and the predatory U.S. dollar bill will follow you
without invitation. No keys or papers
needed for this journey. Pack needle and nail,
thread and wire, fragrant cathedral beeswax,
the air recently flapped under a gull’s wing.
A shoe pebble to make you stop & rest & puzzle
where your other pains come from. Carry
curiosity & confusion in your hand, stroke
them with feathers & prick them with thorns
to keep them alive. Wash your face in fog,
your hands in hopefulness. But no journey
is completed without yearning & a sustained mercy
for the walkers, the harpists, the injured,
the hatless and the lost.

— from Juniper Volume 5, Issue 2