Once Upon a Time
Many years ago I trod lightly through the woods
Being careful not to crush the undergrowth with my feet;
Gently, pushing aside impediments to my progress
So as not to crush or bruise the soft, green foliage.
In those days to make a noise was dangerous.
So I trod quietly too.
Many years ago I carried on my back a pack
To stow essentials for my life: three days' food, ammunition,
A hootchy and water; were then thought sufficient for one’s needs.
On my waist I carried a compass, more water and hand-grenades.
In those days we used books to escape the woods.
So I carried one of those too.
But the essentials they weighed heavy on my back.
They hurt and made me clumsy, introvert,
Looking in instead of out which was dangerous.
So I lightened the load. Of course that was against the rules
But how else was I supposed to live?
I got rid of some food, the water from my pack,
But not the book. I kept the book.
And the hand-grenades.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 4:57 PM UTC
Once Upon a Time
Many years ago I trod lightly through the woods
Being careful not to crush the undergrowth with my feet;
Gently, pushing aside impediments to my progress
So as not to crush or bruise the soft, green foliage.
In those days to make a noise was dangerous.
So I trod quietly too.
Many years ago I carried on my back a pack
To stow essentials for my life: three days' food, ammunition,
A hootchy and water; were then thought sufficient for one’s needs.
On my waist I carried a compass, more water and hand-grenades.
In those days we used books to escape the woods.
So I carried one of those too.
But the essentials they weighed heavy on my back.
They hurt and made me clumsy, introvert,
Looking in instead of out which was dangerous.
So I lightened the load. Of course that was against the rules
But how else was I supposed to live?
I got rid of some food, the water from my pack,
But not the book. I kept the book.
And the hand-grenades.
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