Getting By

Many years ago, I trod lightly through the woods,
Being careful not to crush the undergrowth with my feet.
I would gently push aside impediments to progress
So as not to bruise or crush the soft, green foliage of my World.
In those days to make a noise was dangerous.
So, I trod quietly too.

Many years ago, I carried on my back
Those items They considered essential for my life:
I carried food. I carried ammunition, shelter,
And water in a plastic bag. These, They said, would be sufficient.
As well, about my waist I carried a compass, more water, and hand-Grenades. In those days books were used to escape the woods
So, I carried one of those too.

But Their essentials for my life, I found weighed heavy on my back.
Collectively they hurt, and made a clumsy, introverted observer
Of the World about; noisy, looking in instead of out.
Which was dangerous for us all. So, I lightened my load.
And in doing so disregarded the rules by which my life was ordered. I got rid of some food, and the water in the plastic bag.
But not the book. I kept the book. And the hand-grenades.