Into the Wilds

I began to dream under
the same raw moon
As the tides that bare down
on fragile flesh
the flesh of my forefathers
There’s blood in the apex
of these stones, calling us
to stitch the wounds
of our own callousness and
fleeting desires

I wandered into the wilds,
under sand pine prophets
and oaken kings
I lamented on the nature of our
odorous civilisations, our war machines
and dogmas of oppression

The egret and ibis heard my prayer
and came to see
the stranger in their midst
A creature of sorrow and
sickness and greed
But I wandered aloud,
my footsteps bringing me
to piles of rubble that once stood
the test of time
and time is now mine
under the stars of my
newfound fortitude,
this reckless keen edge
of awareness budding to life
inside my sleeping bones

I was wary once of travellers
of that forgotten golden realm
Longing to hide in the shadows,
a conscious observer
of the night flights of those fighters
The fighters wringing the life out
of the pockets of creation

And I stood there watching
while the memories came
to dance about my head
Spiders spinning webs in my hair
to trickle thoughts of liberation
into my brain

I thought once of you,
the way your eyes would move
to judge the very fabric that
weaves our flaws together
I set that memory free
and again turned
to the wilds that so
lovingly called me home

I followed a deer growing thick
with fetus in her belly,
asked after the hymns
that so wind their way around
and through
beast and tree,
and she told me to listen

So I listened to the gathering dusk,
the crickets’ music
transforming my soul
and then I was no longer afraid
of growing old
so I climbed into the crook
of a giant’s sheltering limbs
and I ate nothing but
what I could catch in
trembling hands

I sacrificed my self into
the hunt for this wealth
This need to resurrect
what once was a feral heart
I stopped playing prey and
found sanctuary
in the blood of the earth
the blood of reptile skin
and spear pointed teeth
as I became a solitary predator

I dug into the midnight soil
seeking a space to sink my roots
to wait and trap any form
any trace of food for my thoughts
I wanted to grow wisdom
I wanted to relearn that
Mother tongue of soil
Muscle and memory
the language of the land’s
savage composition

I wandered the forest,
aching to be found among the palmettos
a dying breed of mystic
planting seeds and craving
all things that a human craves
when burning that all to
cinders and ash

I buried myself in the darkness
among cypress knees and Spanish moss
Letting nightcrawlers sing me to sleep
I wondered then what it would mean
if I chose to stay
if I chose to let myself forget
to be human for awhile

So I tore from myself
small strips of regret
and tied the cloth of those sins
to a dogwood tree
I cried at the wrath of the earth
calling for my explanations
of falling off the edge of this world
So long ago, now, it seems

I entered the badlands
of buzzing insects, leeches
and steam
I let myself go back that way again
and found the answer to that riddle:

I was never really me.


Published by

lauryn jean

Poet, Writer, Artist

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