Off track, derailed
through the woods,
I am grasping every branch as if
the heart of life is
known to one single tree,
one single leaf.
I cannot see
nor even dream
of endings,
nor beginnings,
nor the train and where
it meant to lead.
Somehow I am here,
And here are trees,
Somehow I arrived
Where others leave —
this place
is colored grief.
I sometimes find the traces
of a path,
the way that
others came.
Did they escape?
Could they escape once they
beheld the trees?
If there is escape
and if it is the way
to take,
surely there remains
one leaf or two in every
sleeve — some may carry
the entire tree.
Indeed
My searing soul
Lays waste to this reprieve.
I stay among the trees.