That I should tread so softly these woods of disconcern,
where all of life’s woes seem to grow –
they reaching upward to the sky –
to poke through this thick canopy of love…
Only to choke it, to maim and kill it that
relief from burning sun shall never come…
Leaves and deadwood falling to open forest floor –
showering the undergrowth with the brilliance of God.
Other creatures scurry for refuge in the undergrowth –
leaving we lost and lonely decoys to whither away – alone –
as the steady din of locust hum goes unnoticed…. we cry.
** This poem was inspired by a wonderfully caring woman whom I lost before I ever found….. I can only say the weight of this poem is far greater than the few lines that comprise it. Thank you for a very happy moment Jane…..
johnallenrichter 