The Door

Shunned for being different, blamed for the famine and the storms.

An ostentiferous girl with violet eyes and dark hair, a beauty not fit for this world, was sent to live in the forest.

Walking to forget, to find kindness and a warm home, she stumbled upon a beautiful tree with a wooden door.

Feeling as if nothing mattered, she opened the door, stepped inside, and left the cold lonely forest behind.

Anchored: The Wolf and the Man

My mane is unbrushed and dirty,
there’s no snow for me to roll in.

My matted mane disgusts me;
once I was snow-covered, clean.

You saw me padding in the snow;
paw-prints, fur shaking, a look.

You caught me in your embrace,
free to be, yet anchored to you.

My soul remains free,
yet the cage you gave me is cosy.

I will stay if you take me back to
the snow, brush my mane clean,
and say the words you must say.

Forest of Forgetting

A bird chirps unknown thoughts from a branch in a tree that I have not seen before today. The air feels thick, with the taste of a storm or rain; I cannot tell for sure how the weather will play out, for I do not live in the clouds.

I stand in a potato sack dress, oblivious to my situation; I do not know how I came to be here, nor do I know the name of this country.

I know nothing, yet I feel the very fabric of my surroundings. The connection with nature, as if words are spoken directly to me and only for me to hear, guides me forward.

Trees remind me of the Tree-Folk and their many stories; the wisdom they share with only a selected few. I feel closer to something as I step across an invisible threshold into the forest.

The weight of some emotional distress lingers on my skin and in my mind; I hold back the welling of my heart and those tears wanting to spill and run free towards the forest floor.

Something is missing from my many layers. It is as though my past, personality, and me, the person standing in a forest, ceases to be what she once was.

I walk to remember. I walk to forget. I walk through the ever-increasing darkening of the forest as rain does not come. Instead, snow begins to fall.

The snow should be cold. The snow should make me feel cold, yet it makes me feel calm.
I stand still, waiting for something to come.

In the forest of forgetting, I walk, and I walk until I remember what it is that I must finish.