little tree boulders - August 27, 2014s

author’s note:

A poem not unlike the last poem posted, though the two were written years apart.

Maybe I’m repeating myself…

…or maybe I’m describing a continuing process.


Before I fell in the forest…

I did not hear the trees

but after I fell…
as I lay on the earth
as the decayed leaves
worked to heal me
and the sunlight
through the new leaves
worked to lift me…

I began to detect
the watchful quiet
all around me:

vines, stones, ferns, moss
speaking as one silence—

a mystery so alien:

though I listen intently
I’m still not certain
what they’re all saying

yet I can feel a strong response
stirring deep within me—

drawing me down
into my own dark question
into depths without end—

into a mystery so alien:

it doesn’t seem to belong to me…

perhaps I belong to it.

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
myth steps: the blog