the forest pricks my skin
to remind me I’m still alive,
and drafts of winter
crawl up my sleeves,
warning me to stay awake

the world doesn’t end when I close my eyes.

Dreams take form in the fresh, splintered air,
while my mind clears the mist,
so I’m able to climb
where I can feel
your auras,
hiding amongst
the leaves.

I see
you’re scared
to reveal
your true colors
before the spirits.

Darkness wavers
with the dewdrops of the
sorrow and sparrow wings
we’ve shed below the soil layers.

But I promise if you try
the shadows will do no harm.

They only reflect the other half of you:
empty and alone,
searching for someone
to grant you life,
a whiff of reassurance,
that everything will be okay
in these woods
no one has ever claimed for themselves.

the smell of cedar
as I suspect
you coming
closer to my bones,
aching erythronium;
lavish lotus spells.

When I’m upon
the crown
of the
tallest tree,
I wait
for your voice
to touch the sky
and then
send sensations
of red

love develops deep
within the roots—
the nerves, the fireflies
that make us human.


2 thoughts on “Cedar

  1. So much can be discerned from memory and thought through the olfactory responses to a cedar.I like your use of fireflies here – the tiny fires that are within all of us.

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