The Cartographer

I used to draw maps.
People thought they were destinations.
They weren't.

"Approval"
"Tomorrow"
"When I'm Ready"
"Someday"
"If Only"
"Jealousy"
"Comparison"

People loved them.
Framed them.
Hung them in their homes.
Came back for more.
Called them beautiful.
Hopeful.
Inspiring.

The truth is.
They were escape routes.
Not into those places.
Out.

Out of "Approval."
Out of "Tomorrow."
Out of "When I'm Ready."
Out of "Someday."
Out of "If Only."
Out of "Jealousy."
Out of "Comparison."

It took me years to understand
I wasn't drawing for my clients.
I was drawing for myself.

I knew every road by heart.
Because I'd lived in every one of those places.
I knew each wall
And every door painted to look like exits.

I knew how easy it was
To mistake waiting
For living.

The hardest maze I ever escaped
Was "Tomorrow."

Then
The maps became easier to draw.
Not because I still believed in them.
Because I finally knew where the exits were.

People still come.
Ask for "Validation."
"Complacency."
"Acceptance."

I draw every one.
Meticulously.
Beautifully.
Faithfully.
Hoping one day they, too, realize
The only way to escape a prison
Is to master its floor plan.

— Tami Jo Urban