Wilderness blues
In these woods for half a year
I try to take my small flame to
every dark corner, to explore
the rot in every cave and stump.
I need to prepare, I repeat.
I need to see all the forkings ahead.
After losing so many moons looking in the dirt
it becomes hard to see anything else.
Everything looks like mud or danger.
But doesn’t every leaf have two faces –
The rough one with countless mouths
and the green one seeking light?
If you always seek the worst, you told me,
then by definition you discard everything else.
I grow more eyes to see
by darkness, by other light, predators, beauty.
Let’s curb optimism and fatalism, you repeat.
There has to be another way.
These woods are vast and dark. I will find
a way out one day, to fields of corn and apples.
And for now, I will live here, I will survive
on rainwater and wild strawberries.