•Are you lost?•
The trees call out to you, whispering in the wind
Soft forgotten screams, the trees beckon. Despair? You feel something in your throat the closer you get to the deepest woods. A crawling over your skin, but it's autumn and the insects have returned to the earth. Can you hear them? You can hear them. The distant ancestors of the lost. Your ancestors. You're treading closely to the edge of where life meets the lifeless and the dark consumes the light. The wood is thick here, and it's hard to see ahead. But you feel it. Like a burning in your chest, like heavy hands on your back. And they whisper, but what do they say to you? What is it you hear in these dark woods? Afraid and curious, you trod on. The branches tugging at your clothes, roots threatening your fall. A cut across your cheek but the blood doesn't spill from your wound. It spills from your eyes. And the crying starts up again as the wind picks up. A barrage of leaves fly to you, blinding you, forcing you back. But you won't. The intoxicating darkness calls you with such seduction. A bleak desire to go on pushes you forward but suddenly a voice from behind echoes your name through the wood. It sounds desperate. It sounds sad. Why are they crying. You have to keep going. But you turn, and you're in deep. Are you lost?
Comments (1)
Heh, I wrote mine about Mount St. Helens, but I love Rainier just as much. On a hike along Mowich River, I was stopped in my tracks by the feeling that my soul was borne in that spot, it burst out of the ground and found me somehow when I was born in Vancouver, WA.