I had met someone long ago
who now has little presence in my life.
But, it is safe to say
that I still remember them every day.
I think I had been with them
where I am sitting now:
Against this bark…
In this light…
No, I didn’t love them.
Yes, I do thank them.
Every day I thank them.
Maybe perhaps it was not what they told me
that had affected me
But rather who they were
that had affected me.
I didn’t see myself in them.
I only saw that I could be like them.
Assured, is what I wanted to be.
Assured, is what I wanted to look like.
Assured, is what I wanted to feel like.
I think I know why I still come back
to sit in that grass.
Against the bark.
In the light.
Perhaps the context
of the wet plants
and wistful air
could help me remember them a little more.
I think I still need them a little more.
I need to be assured a little more.
Author’s Note: This is just a quick practice, it’s not really meant to be a full, fleshed out poem.
I found myself in an unknown place,
at an early hour, when I just woke.
It was not my home, nor did I remember
what brought me to this lonely space.
It was a forest, a deciduous kind,
not near my house, around which lived pine.
My bed clothes still clean from the last night’s wash,
I realized I had no watch.
But then soon, the sun began to rise.
I could see more clearly through my adjusted eyes.
I looked around for human life –
but I could find none, and so I turned.
Turned toward the eastern front,
toward the sun, toward where there could be someone.
With nothing to protect my feet, except my socks,
which offered no protective feat,
I wandered in the easterly direction,
until I stumbled upon a pool, and found by own reflection.
And beyond this pool, this tarn it could be called,
was a monstrous rubble, covered in moss and other lichen.
It looked like stone, maybe brick,
stuck with cement, but as I could see, it did not stick.
There was an air above the moss, one conceived so thick ’twas hard to move across.
But I did not want to move across, no, for in this air was a danger, a danger I could not know.
It struck me all over, not only on my body, but also in my private mind.
Pervading all my senses, rendering my heart defenseless.
I told myself I must not venture, not over this tarn and not over this direction.
I maintained a healthy distance, and ushered my way around, toward the eastern sun, where I knew hope could be found.
I knew not to look back, to never glance again. For that feeling of evil still rested on my skin.
The evening was a chill one, and the hunters were eager ones, as they hadn’t seen a single animal that day that could potentially be their prey. The place where the hunters had been looking was a forest located in eastern France. As they were scouting around they found their first prey of the day.
A large male deer came within their field of vision, many yards away. It had seemed that they had not yet caught its attention. They decided that one of them prepare to shoot it, before it got away. Just as one of them was about to go in for the kill, the other noticed something odd a few feet away from the deer. It appeared that it was a mine, left over from World War II. The other hunter warned his friend, and they decided they would be wary of it when getting their prey.
It seems that they had spoken as a little to loudly, because as they conversed, the deer turned in their direction. Now alerted to the hunters’ presence, the deer began to run. The hunters had a brief moment of disappointment, but was quickly dispersed as the deer stepped on the mine.
The hunters, although a safe distance away, were rattled by the explosion. As they were coming to, one said to the other, “I guess we got a bigger bang for our buck.”
She is barefooted as she lightly treads from heel to toe in the soft, warm, grass path. She stops for a moment and stares at a fallen tree – originally from the left side of the path, but now lays across it. It left a larger gap in the canopy to let in more sunlight then the smaller ones. She feels a brush of wind that knocks a few dead leaves off the fallen tree. She’s not walking lightly anymore as she hurdle jumps left foot over first, and continues to jog along the path until she reaches a field of lighter color grass that sprawls on over slight hills for a mile, marked only by a large log cabin on the far side of the plain.
The trees above me overlap like the lives of the people we meet
The gaps between the leaves leave shapes only seen through a single perspective
We can only see the ideals we see through the people we meet, but we must change
I take off my glasses to see the leaves to see the leaves with my raw sight, and suddenly I can see more than I did before.
As the branches blur I see a shape only I can see, without any other’s filter
I can suddenly see my own ideals and creations, influenced by me and me alone
I am now me