(panic in the woods)

i will name things
i will name myself
i am not afraid

i will speak
my name
i will show
my face
i am not afraid

i cannot
in good conscience
remain anonymous
with this
one life

i cannot
stifle the
one thing
i have
that is
my own

in the woods i named
a stick and
in a rage i held it
wanting to break
stones with wood

i looked frantically
about at
the trees
with their many
notches and
dark hideaways
and was astonished
to find they
had not made
a place for *me
to live and hide

i wanted to
scream fire
i am here!
why isn't there
a place for me?

then i felt as if
i were a tree
a bare tree
with thieves already
bargaining for
next spring's leaves
not yet sprung

so i marched
down the trail
in a desperate
fury and suddenly stopped
because there
on the grey, dusty ground
was the most beautiful,
vibrant red berry
i had ever seen

and i silently
shouted and named,
red berry!
i am a red berry!
i *know i am a red berry!
why, then
do i feel like
the trampled
grey dust?

tears streamed down
my face
and i panicked
my breath came
too fast
i looked around
wildly
and i named everything i saw

and in my rapid
breathing
i desperately wanted
nothing more than
a warhorse
i wanted my stick back,
that i had flung aside

i wanted to roar
"break!"
and watch the stone crumble
i wanted my horse
to be strong and lithe,
beautiful
a thundering
terror
i wanted to
wreak vengeance on...

what? who?
i couldn't name
my enemy

but i am the namer

i will name
the bane of my heart
the cursed
corrupt nightmares
of government and
moral authority

but my deepest self
is lashing out
for something more
to name

something to break
myself against

but this thing
escapes me
remains nameless
slippery
and out of
my control