That first day,
before I knew
its path would become
my way home,
some part of me
fell into the labyrinth.
A thread of my cocoon
must have snagged
on the silence at its centre
and begun, very gently,
to unspool.

Step by step,
with every labyrinth that I walked
it continued to unravel,
years of carefully spun layers,
leaving traces of presence in its wake.

Today, I felt the tug
of the final fibres being claimed,
my life now woven deep
into that meandering path.
A new story emerging from the old
with a shape and a voice
and wings.

by Emily Simpson 2011