A Forest In Nowhere With Thoughts
by RayfullyIvy
a forest in nowhere with thoughts
-By Olivia I. Williams
I grew a forest with my thoughts.
Never planted,
Just spilled—
Like how words spill
To paper,
Flowing,
Seeping into soil
Begging the river
That’s toiling down-hill,
While Ideas burst
Like the flowers
Stretching through concrete.
Mushrooms bloomed
a soft outreach,
Petals dripping in ink—
A confession on paper,
Letters buzzing into place
Like bees.
I feel the rush in my veins,
The whispers in my ears,
Even though it’s not the wind
It’s just my head speaking—
When I can’t get words out my mouth.
—When I can’t feel the pain
Because it’s locked in my brain.
So I find another way
To let it out.
I let it flow.
Let it burst,
Let it hurt,
let me cry.
I let it feel,
let it belive,
let it think,
let It out,
So I don't trap it inside.
I let it sprout the forest.
The flowers,
The trees,
The river.
The river—
always flowing while
I waded up to my knees,
Hoping that someone will hear me
Even though—
The river drowns out my cries
And leaves everything behind.
When I grew the forest
I never thought
I’d let it spill,
Now—
it’s a world
Of words.
It’s Ink,
Paper,
Hurt,
Tears,
Love,
Hate,
Pain,
Blood,
Shame,
And a
Forest,
Where I grew thoughts
That I thought would live inside me.
Now—
free to grow,
Free to hide,
Free to cry,
Free to lie,
Free to light up others,
Free to disappear.
I let it happen—
When I grew a forest of thoughts—
When I let it sprout,
—right here.
I end up here.
Every time I can’t yell,
Cant scream,
Cant cry,
Cant laugh,
Cant BE,
And
cant spill that out
On paper.
I end up here.
Among the cravassed valleys
That echo a soft song,
The towering mountains
hold words
I'm too afraid to say.
The rumbling storms
grumble and form.
A tumbling river
And miniature streams,
—gentle oak trees
That seem to stretch
Past the clouds,
Leaves flying proud.
I don’t pack a bag,
I don’t carry a purse,
Because I never mean to go.
But the path finds me.
It finds me
When I’m lost
In my head,
Or when
I can’t get to bed.
The worn wood-chip path
Leaves no footprints,
—leaves no trace
So I follow it
As it’s my escape.
Nowhere remembers me,
The trees whisper and shuffle
—making space.
The flowers shine brighter
Knowing I need
A little color,
When I enter
With tears streaming
down my face.
The wind sighs
On a cloud,
—letting me be the one
To cry,
To scream,
To laugh,
To be loud.
The river always smells of
Wet stone and soil.
Tropical fish
Glide gently beneath the surface,
Pastel scales
Reflecting against
The sun's reflection,
Dragonflies
Zip among the waterside,
Humming together
A soft melody.
Stretching with the oak trees
—The mountain peaks pierce
The sky,
Wearing soft cloaks of mist
As eagles circle high.
The crevassed valley
Stretches wide
Among the
Mountain side,
Like the empty
Lines in front of me
—Waiting—
For the truth.
Deer call from below
As they graze the
Trees,
And sip from the
Streams.
Palm trees sway
Along the edges of the valley,
And climb the hillside
Where a waterfall
Drums silently.
drumming in
teal blues, moss green,
And reflections of pastel yellow,
—meeting the stream.
Each time I come back
I know I'm free,
Each time I come back
I can finally be me.
The land
In my mind—
Where words
Form forests,
Where letters
Form flowers,
Where paragraphs
Form rivers,
Flowing on paper
When life gets too much.
It not just the
Land of nowhere,
It’s the land
Of somewhere.
Where something
Comes true,
In my
Land of Nowhere–
–My forest of thoughts