Further into the forest
Each year I walk a little farther,
gathering my belongings—my smiles and my tears—
and stuffing them into suitcases and trunks.
I believe the movement enables me to grow,
but some may argue I am running from my fears.
After a month or two of showers and baths,
it becomes time to buy a new bar of soap.
Or I could forgo the cleansing,
escape to the woods,
and pursue a journey for a new kind of hope.
I would walk farther than ever before,
scaling mountains and wading through streams—
though my life would be wet and dirty,
spotted with bugs, mud, and evergreen trees,
I would be running after my dreams.
The trees would grow taller around me
as I hide out in the wildnerness.
Would I continue to grow?
Would my fears begin to show?
Or would they, and the life that I lived, disappear with tenderness?
After lying in the clearing for so many years,
eventually I would find what I was searching for.
A bright light will appear above me,
beckoning me on towards the heavens
as I rise up with the key and open a new door.
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