There is this place,
A trail, off of a trail that
Daily i venture along.
A mystery, it has seemed,
A dark intimidating area in the woods.

I must go through, i must
Explore this emptiness in my knowledge
Off my path i go, down a small hill,
Only to stop in my tracks.

What is this place?
Not many things give me this feeling,
Not many things make me turn back.
It is because of this, not even its sight,
But its total atmosphere, and this feeling,
That i am turned away.

This feeling
Is what scares me the most.

Is this an enchanted place,
A palace, for magical beings?
I can’t not, with these questions.

So again i go ahead on,
Walking cautiously through.
But to my disgust, i am slowed
With mud stuck boots on my feet.
But through this i venture on
Deep into the wood, i go:
The darker it grows, the more intrigued i am.

It now is not scary at all,
But still an eerie place to be, it seems.
With its fallen trees. The brittle,
Near death, branches which hang down.
They seem to want to tear at me.
The floor soft with year after year
Of dead needles.
Once they would have been evergreen,
But now while i walk on,
Red spongy masses they are.

I come upon a sign,
It shows, at least at one time,
There was life here.
A bunch of rocks, in a pattern,
Similar to that of a riverbed,
Now dried in the summer’s heat.
But this is comforting in a way.
I can go to its edge and see green leaves,
Which have grown under the falls.

I go back along the trail of the dead.
Only now to find, that up a hill,
There is life in this place.
I find on the side of the trail,
In the middle of destruction and suffering
…Peace.

A tranquil haven out of darkness,
This brings me light
And lifts my spirits for the better.

It’s a miraculous feeling now.
I feel delighted, not frightened,
By the green placid area.
Surrounded by blackness and death
And looking only within to the light,
I can find, here, inspiration.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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