Today, the sun felt like warm aluminum
pressing against my skin, as I inhaled
the glare off his sunglasses, and the tsk
as she smirked. And as I took that overly
metaphorical ride home, I felt
the crunch under foot as I
stepped into a navy-blue forest,
where the birds sing as often as the sun shines
and I realize that I never really left this place
because even when I return I am
still trying to find the exit.
And I am
tired of being lost, even if I’m not going
in circles. Tired of reflecting on the nature
of reality, when I can’t even see the sky.
Tired, but not tired enough to quit moving;
not tired enough to give up the feeling of
sap on my fingers, and dew drops on my legs.
Not tired enough, even though I wonder,
when I secretly know the answer,
who planted these seeds that gave birth to
all these trees. And if they will fall
before I find my way out.