Trees


I stop, enchanted by the silhouettes of the towering willow, oak, and eucalyptus trees. I inch forward until I'm under the tinted limelight of one of the lamps positioned along the gravel trail. The yellowish-green color drenched my person and I could imagine what my exact slumped posture and highlighted face structure looks like, indescribable in words but unmistakable. I can see the backpack on my back, the clothes on my skin, and the beat up shoes on my feet. What is also revealed is the weight pulling down on my shoulders, the anchor in my mind and in my heart. Like a criminal caught in the act, a deer in headlights, I am an escapist caught in a corner, running in circles until I run into the wall. Rocks stab through my soles, with each step I fumble and wobble so I decide to walk on the grass. I finally make my way around to the back of the school, marching my way through dirt, straw, and whatever may have been hiding in the fog of black. My headphones aren't able to drown out the scream of the dark. My head craves the comfort of my bed and my pillow, but it must stand tall and alert, eyes wide and awake. My spine contorts in fatigue and the bottom of my feet are beginning to twist and knot. Walking through a doorway made between two trees I find what, where I was looking for and quickly get comfortable, placing the wheels of my longboard on the ground and sitting on the top of the deck, feeling the bamboo shift and settle with the weight of my body. Stagnant at last. I can now release the physical weight from my shoulders and breathe, in an attempt to relieve any other stresses that I can. I have found myself in a burrow hidden in the corner of the wall, my burrow, my safe haven. With a few flicks of the flint I hotbox the canopy encasing me, engulfing the trees in my bowl in flames, tainting the trees in my lungs, and intently observing the ones around me. Silent watchmen, great resting ents, observing what is around them, completely oblivious to what is not. These trees know me and I've come to know them, standing with me since I was a sapling myself. They know why I am here so I feel no need to defend my actions or my endeavours, though guilt still haunts my consciousness from time to time, night to night. When the smoke clears so does my head. I arrange my things and head back up the trail I came down, fumbling over the mounds of dirt and hay, avoiding the rocks and sticking with the grass, passing through the limelight one more time, examining the identical imaginary duplication of myself, though this time my eyes are slightly more sunken in and red. There is almost pure silence from the end of the trail to the porch of my house, then hesitant yet precise, silent movements throughout the living room and into my bedroom, straight onto my mattress on the floor. My head is finally able to rest, my feet are releasing tension, and my spine is realigning. The pressure fell right off of my shoulders and landed on my chair, along with my board. What is left of the weight in my head and heart just make me sink more comfortably into my mattress. Nothing has been fixed but being broken doesn't feel that bad anymore, not at the moment. And with that I finally can close my eyes, get some well needed rest, and get ready to take another gamble on another day. Until then I'll sleep heavy and dream light, love.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem