Unreachable Now Poem by Barry Van Asten

Too late in the forest, sunken and dumb,
Unable to penetrate beyond the track
Where fallen leaves and dead things are burying
A universe of footprints in the Anglo-Saxon muck.

I thought: here, there's always been a space
And nobody knew why she came and said:
So you find somebody in these woods
Where only the march of death remains.

And yes, I'd say nothing, for she will come;
Come when all the woods are winding down.
And I'll say into the woods, (I'll whisper) -
I will not go again into that unknown!