The Forest

 

There is no substitute
for feeling what calls to be felt,
no shortcut through the forest.

Each tree an experience,
each interaction, its own fall of light,
the ground itself littered with things
that ask to be known by name.

It’s not just loss
that hides in the undergrowth, but joy,
and suppressed and dampened hopes.

The forest is alive with all that you are.
Hush now, listen.

from The Land Will Hold You (2022)

PoetryMary WalkerComment