moving pictures in clouds and trees through which sunlight streams
evergreen towers in a quiet forest save the crunch of leaves underfoot
and a green so deep, i dive into the pockets of cool darkness beckoning
tell me your secrets and lead me further and further and beyond the light
past a forgotten gravesite, and a broken cart wheel
and foundations crumbled around a solitary scorched hearth
so dark i'd swear it was still smouldering
and further beyond the iron mines and the battered pines
and the streams of water and light running off the mountain
a cliff to rest, on which lies a vine long since fallen from the weight of too many swings
and before me chasm so wide the way around long since abandoned
(a pause)
the return to this place, from which I ran so long and so far...
a shaft of light appears, shimmering before me.
A way beyond the fears and the chasm of doubt.
Beyond the forest and the mountain, and even the city where I've hid these long years.
I drink in the light, and I bless it. I am whole, and the chasm but a memory.
Jennifer D. Behnke, May 10, 2013
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