Forest

Open windows Closed doors Will I go Can I stay?

  Path July 26 2021 I stand in a long slow snake at the airport, Miles and miles until I sleep. My phone to my ear, I tell my mother “Life is a tree with burning roots and endless meaning. Everywhere I look I see a choice And find that I have lost my voice.” “I think life is a path,” she says. “One foot in front of the other.” In my forest the path winds through trees ablaze with white flame, pulsing spiderwebs strung from tree to tree like mycelium. One foot in front of the other. Then a cloud of stuffy cotton descends. Muffled sounds and hazy vision  I tear the fiber apart and crawl forward, One foot in front of the other. As the hour hand pulls me up, A sound ringing in the air, A candle in the snow, I hear myself laughing. I come back to a stream. In the clear water I see my face and know my name. I don’t ask my reflection for anything. I look up to a smiling face and outstretched arms That pull me Across the stream.