Tuesday 22 May 2018

Wandering Wood

Wandering Wood
The air saturated green
Wraps itself around my form
Its scent spiced with musty earth
Thick and expectant,
Heavy like draped animal skin.
I wear it as if I belong.
Bare feet against mud and leaves
A patchwork of ochre underfoot,
I will keep walking
until twisted branches meet above my head
Turning my sky deep umber.
I will meander
Through thorns and thickets,
Over wise gnarled roots,
Across rocks, moss, feathers,
Until I am more creature than woman
And my skin turns to bark.
In this place
My wandering wood
I am not who I thought I was.
In the forest’s womb
Her trees watch you, they listen.
They will whisper and chatter,
Woody breath on the breeze
Speaking your stories with mulch tongues.
They know you to your bones,
The marrow and mineral of you
As you stand beneath them
empty as Pandora’s opened box.
Repeating a question
Wordlessly.
In this place,
My wandering wood,
People can lose their minds.
With my bark skin, warm and rough,
Lungs full of sap and birdsong
I kneel on creeping ivy
As it weaves me in.
My mind is not lost in this place,
I gave it away
In return for my heart.
Poetry by Toni Cogdell
Art by Toni Cogdell



No comments:

Post a Comment