- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
When I Walked Into the Wood (revised)
The way before the journey is never remembered.
It is only the end of the old life,
Before the start of a new.
Small and forgettable we pass it by,
And praise the journey.
A forest grows before my eyes,
Covering the sky,
My sheltering sky.
The trees, they beckon me,
But the sun does not shine where they are.
There was contemplation of right and wrong,
There will always be this.
For life is not without it.
There will always be black and white,
It was only painted over with green and leaf.
Green and grey flood into my eyes,
As the forest grew before them.
There will always be this.
But I chose to blur the lines,
And then I walked.
The feet were bare,
And the mind naive,
Hands opened towards the covered sun
For one last warm word;
But there was none,
But still I walked.
The smooth ground gave way to the rough of rock,
Jutting into my path,
Threatening to bleed my feet of their willingness,
Yet I walked on into the wood.
Weeds and branches swarmed the entrance
To the entrancing wood,
As if to serve as a cautionary tale,
Put along by the kindness of a transgressor,
As if to say do not enter,
But my eyes were stained from pure,
I saw, yet I walked on.
Upon the entrance the forest stood still,
Silent, and watching,
As it’s ground muted my footsteps.
A dark was enclosed, but I only saw,
A pity of a child in form of weeping branches.
I drew forth to comfort my dear first friend in the wood.
Oh dear briar tree,
You were the first to meet me in the wood.
Tangled high, intertwined within your own branches,
I stood in front on you,
Palms held up towards the covered sun,
Surely I have not gone far.
Oh briar tree won’t you love me?
My first friend in the wood?
Higher than me you must be wise
To twist other’s vines to gain your air,
Yet your helpers hang dead within your grasp.
But I do not see them,
Nor do my eyes see the thorns.
My hands stretched forth,
Briar tree won’t you love me?
For a moment my pink flesh is unbarred,
I am embraced and retraced,
This must be love.
Alas, then I see red.
From my hands,
With your thorns,
And my tears.
Dear briar tree,
Why do you hold me so?
A desperation for me not to go on?
Oh briar tree,
Why do you slew me so?
Your thorns seem as my thorns as they cover my hands.
My blood is your water,
And you are thirsty for the red.
Oh red set me free,
Let the briars be satisfied.
A mask uncovered is left behind,
A trail of red left behind.
The forest seems colder as I walk on,
For now the innocence is scarred.
There is no sun now,
Not even through the trees.
I hear a rain but it does not fall on me.
Do they shield me only for their own harm?
These branches of green?
The ground is ash grey,
Nothing reaches it.
The hardened blades sharpen for my feet.
A fire had consumed them from the inside out
Though they are not dead.
Must they make me feel their pain?
They dare me to fall,
To take my face into their needle hands,
But what have I done to they?
The thought was vain the pity the scratches,
As I walked on.
The blades surrendered to the mud as I traveled.
It clung to me,
Making the steps a suicide.
Where are you if not here?
The hands are brown as is my body,
Weighted with clay.
But I had to go on,
And so I walked on.
A pause amongst this wood,
To say some words of thus character in walk;
No one can hold my fears,
Even I push them from my mind.
Dear red, even you do not know them all,
Dear friend you do not know them at all.
Yet still I walk on into the forest who pulls me within.
But why do I go on?
Maybe my feet will stop at nothing to bleed...
Or maybe it is what I am looking for, to not allow the yield.
A something fatile to every life,
For it is life itself,
And I am searching to live.
Resumed, now, the path which is followed.
Ahead, a fear is crossed,
And thus we spectate;
Then, a dark came upon me,
Though night was a mile ahead.
It came in vines.
Slowly the forest seemed alive,
Its vine grey skin fighting my skin.
How much more must I give to be done?
But if they want it all,
Shield me rain,
Save me sun!
For I still will walk on.
But the wood grew angry,
The blades of green became the blades of a thousand reverent soldiers,
The vines grasped my arms as a cruel father,
The thorns silenced my mouth with the pain I could not cry!
The darkness was above my head.
And she was ready.
But it is a deeper pain than on my skin,
It was within,
It was tearing me away.
Pandora had opened her tortureous chest once again,
But it was in my hands,
Crawling upon my skin.
As a leech,
Sucking of my very life and will to live.
The eyes slowly were turned to grey,
Like the forest around me,
Like a fire had burned me from the inside out,
And then was gone.
As ashen face,
Fell to the sides,
That felt not to impress.
Who hung above the dead feet,
Who could move no more,
Who would walk no more.
And the blades of grass softened,
For their deed was done.
And all was silent.
I will remember the beginning.
The contemplation of right and wrong,
The moment of decision to blur the lines and pretend not to see.
The briar trees, the vines, the mud, the blades of green
They shall forget.
For I was only an exhale of their life.
And far from sight I lay,
Remembering them in clarity.
For how could I forget those who scarred me.
But who was I to be remembered,
As the many they had scarred.
And when a body once rises again,
Once upon a fallen dream,
Thine eyes will remain open
And never sleep again.
But when the weariness is great,
And thine eyes are as boulders,
Lay in peace among the flowers,
And never dream in a nightmare again.
Sweet voices called to me awaken
From my jewel-less dream.
Awakened, my eyes timid looked around,
Yet recognition was beyond them.
I saw draped in fog the forest barely to be visible.
And then the sun,
Oh the sun!
When the sun did rise
The fog gave flight with the trees of thorns
And the blades of green.
And among the jagged rocks,
Left only smooth ground for me to stand
Once again and walk.
Learned well from this place,
And walk to others I will.
Its same face may take mask in others
To where I may travel.
The love I learned to be patient,
You shall keep me from a greater harm.
Cost me mine eyes,
You will restore my eyes again.
Lose me mine ears,
You will grant me hear through mine eyes.
Silenced be mine lips,
You again will give me voice.
With no thought to where I may go;
I will always remember....
When I walked in to the wood.