As a child
Lost in the woods
Of my own accord
I wandered
On well-trodden paths.
Under arching boughs –
Over rocks half-peering
From the earth below.
Up steep banks I scampered.
Towering oaks offered their trunks to me.
Fingers finding fissures
In their rough bark,
Feet finding footholds
On steadfast roots
Reaching far into the earth.
As a man
Lost in the woods
That I know so well
I stumble
Through bushes and brambles
And briars
That grab and pull
And pierce and cut.
Breathing hard
I stop
To suck on bleeding fingers,
Staggered at how the woods have changed,
And wonder where
And when
And how
I got lost along the way.
(Fall 2008)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem