We must enter our dark and dank forest;
that dominion of wild-ness,
of stumps and excrescence,
where unseen forces commune
among the calligraphy of contorted branches
beyond my fluency. Screech and caw,
murmur and buzz outside my voice range.
Where I can be lost in the chaos
that has been shadowing me.
What seemed familiar is suddenly unknown.
I am prepared to meet my unlived (disowned?) self,
old bark shedding, maple gone skeletal.
These woods of brambles juiced,
nettles seeded and shedding trees
tapped for syrup. A lantern seen
from a golden grove unleafing.
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