Maggie Butt

The Patron Saint of Sat Navs

I answer centuries of prayer,
for you were lost, but failed to specify
the time-frame to be found.

I watch you from above, like saints of old
and guide you with my kindly hints,
Turn around where possible.

The downside is that now you’re truly lost
your hand in mine as trusting as a child
with no idea of where you’ve been or go.

I am two hours away you faithfully repeat,
because I told you so. Medieval
in belief, channeling all long-lost faith

in me. Absorb my mantras, leave
all questioning and reason in the past,
folded with the dusty maps.