Dipping toes in
a nip
of a fish
threatens
the clipped sound of I
A blanket of numb
wraps around me
between me and the urge to write
encased and unsafe
in pain
all the time
trying
March 7, 2015 by twinklysparkles
Posted in Saturday | Tagged writing | 1 Comment
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twinklysparkles 
Lost
David Wagoner
Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
thought of you when I read this.