Though the Woods

I hear their voices echo through the woods of their confusion. They hear the songs with no melodies, no soul. Be this, be that, do this but don’t do that. Once it was I, who has been lost in the woods. Barefoot, ripped fabrics, wide-eyed but a beating heart running from tree to tree seeking roots of my own. I would lean onto a tree thinking if the tree’s roots go deep into the core, then they must be unmovable - it must be safe to stay. But the trees grew flowers and moss on which I wasn’t allowed to slumber. The trees would welcome spider webs that gave me chills and creatures that could not resist pocking fun at the mere fact that I exist. I have worn out my feet and collapsed to the earth. It’s ironic, how when you are down you gain a new perspective. Here I was limb and fragile, but the sky washed the eyes. Being still stemmed roots that I didn’t know I could grow. I laughed at the pure revelation that I was, myself a tree. The laugh echoes as a call home for the others who are lost. 

Anastasiia Ryzhkova