a wildflower-lined path
leads to a dark forest
specked with sandstone remnants
of crumbling mountains
all senses are muffled
beneath dense pines
mushrooms, moss, and needles
cover the loamy floor
fiddle-leaved fern fronds
ache towards muted sunlight
i used to
climb these rocks
and pretend they were battleships
wrap myself
in the lonely folds of the hills
blunt my pain
against the geologic scale of time
i can still show you
where black salamanders
and neon-orange newts hide
where spring starts last
and winter dies the slowest
i can show you a heaven
that soothes an ancient soul
if you know where to look
if i wish to be seen
if i choose for you to find me
