Under open skies

I walked out onto the plains and stood under the open sky
looking over my shoulder at the fringes of the forest
sensing nothing of it’s sinister interior, it’s dark heart
appearances aren’t everything though are they?
take me for example, to meet me you’d never know
that I am a habitual forest dweller, uneasy on the plains
finding the light too harsh, making me feel exposed
reminding me how I long for the shade, the solitude

Reminding me in turn that the forest draws one in
that the paths all lead to it’s depths, spiralling, circling
taking us away from the people we want so much to be
convincing us somehow that darkness outshines light
without dulled senses this makes absolutely no sense
why then does our internal dialogue argue black is white
why is there such allure to losing any sense of ourselves
is it so hard to live happily under these open skies?

So I sit because standing leaves me vulnerable to walking
and walking right now would lead me back tree-wards
so I hold tight to my legs and then fold them under me
kneeling in an attitude of supplication for I need help
and it is only away from the forest that help can help
I am fortunate in having an intimate knowledge of this
even if knowing is not doing, not knowing is worse
for it’s true that without knowing we do without thinking.

Doing without thinking is the curse of the forest dweller
a habitual need to block out the light of clear thought
without thought for the hurt, pain and problems caused
the forest dweller wends his merry way, oblivious
to his beloved plains lovers, sisters, brothers, others
who don’t understand why anyone would want the dark
when living under open skies is so natural a life
a communion with nature, a communion with one another

Solitude beckons some who would rather not be seen
those doing shameful deceitful self-destructive things
the heart of the forest beckons those and others too
some running from pain, from pasts, from themselves
not all who dwell in the forest want a permanent home
visitors wander into the darkness and then stumble out again
having breathed in their fill of the fetid rotted interior
the attraction is not universal, not a panacea, just a lie

Knowing the nature of the lie should be a potent weapon
isn’t knowledge power, does it not feed the will?
does it depend on how damaged the will has become
can even a broken will be mended, made back whole
by continually bathing it with light and telling it truths
like that the forest is dark but the plains are light
like that living under it’s leaves destroys our very souls
and that kneeling out on the plains is better than that.