Today I continued through the forest, unaware
that I wasn’t breathing right. And so I stopped
at a large, thick tree, and leaned up
against the wet, moss-covered trunk
thirsty for a glass of awareness. I knelt
and pressed my face into the mulch and dirt
so I could breath in the earth,
but all I smelled was dust.
Today, the navy-blue forest felt colder
but I felt warmer. I saw a crow, perched high
up on a branch, and I called out to him.
And as he flew
down to meet me, I opened my eyes.
I had tripped on a wire made of disturbing
disheartening, dismaying feelings.
But I was too tired, too vacant, to cry.
I stood up, brushed off my jeans,
and continued onward.