Pink Fog

audio accompaniment: “44444”

Finally.
We walked in your forest
And were transported
Absorbed
By the language
Spoken between tree and root

To a place 
Found only in the mind.

I stopped to weep.

At the bridge
Tears of joy
Fell into the river.
Drops united
Flowing to the sea
Finding
The great expanse

“We mustn’t stop,
It is forbidden”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“This is my place.”

They were coming for me
Masks revealing only their eyes
I removed my covering
Breathed deep and long

Atom by atom
Evaporating
Into the pink fog

I went for a walk in my favorite forest on Monday. It’s ok to walk, but no stopping? No meditation? No appreciation for the connectedness of nature?
Put me in jail if you must, but I refuse to “visit” a place I call home.

multiple exposure photograph with birds added (manipulation) – I wanted to make a square, but it just wouldn’t work

6 Comments

  1. in my humble opinion, this is THE BEST poem I have read of yours to date……..I could feel your love and admiration for nature………the connection through breathing, absorbing the love and healing it offers. Bravo! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The restrictions out in nature are getting a bit absurd, aren’t they? It is becoming increasingly clear that the biggest source of transmission for this virus are enclosed, poorly ventilated spaces, and the surfaces in them. The longer you stay, the more dangerous it gets (viral load). None of this is a problem in nature, unless someone sneezes or coughs directly at you, or you at them…

    https://www.newyorker.com/news/q-and-a/how-to-social-distance-as-america-opens-back-up
    https://www.erinbromage.com/post/the-risks-know-them-avoid-them

    Liked by 1 person

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