Steven DaLuz   © 2015 All Rights Reserved

Far into the forest


The trees stand around me like guards.
I am not their prisoner so perhaps
they protect. Their feet are deep
beneath the earth so they can thrust
themselves tall with heavy heads.

In these deep dark woods Iím not
sure if Iím lost. I havenít dropped
breadcrumbs or pebbles. Still I
believe I know north from south.
Here few birds stir on the branches.

Undergrowth is sparse. Shade
weighs as much as water. Itís
a season in itself. A season of quiet
no quick bodies penetrate. No
wings plow through its density.

I sit leaning on the grooved bark
as if on the flank of an elephant
and I donít feel quite alone. Trees
are judging me. I come without
ax or matches. Only to breathe

this green air and look for my
mind perhaps to empty it out
perhaps to fill it with something
far more useful than pesky worries
that swarm like ants and bite.

The trees are speaking to each
other in chemicals. I can feel
their calm like a cool clean lake
where I float far from any shore
unsure how to return and unwilling.

 

 

Marge Piercy
Copyright © 2015  

Knopf brought out Marge Piercyís 19th poetry book, Made in Detroit, in 2015. Her collection, The Hunger Moon: New & Selected Poems, was released in paperback. Piercy has published 17 novels, most recently Sex Wars. PM Press recently published her short story collection, The Cost of Lunch, Etc.


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