I
wonder if there's any way out of here.
There’s
only two shades of black:
Air
black and tree black, you
Can't
move more than a metre before
A root
uproots you,
Trips
you up, smirking and
Sinks
back into the soil.
The
trees reach far, far
Into
the sky, meshed overhead
And twined
together, locking
Hands,
to mess you up.
To try and make you forget
The sky
was ever there.
There’s
a patch of sunlight I've been chasing.
I
remember that, I was told to
Find
the light, and I’ve tried
For
however many days -
I
figure when I find it,
If I
stay ever-so still,
It will
beam me out of here
Some
powerful alien spotlight.
If I
really squint, I can see
The
branches spreading thin and sparse
Across
the remnants of an indigo sky.
They
look like
The
fringes and frays of a
Worn
out broken black cloth
Sold creased
up in the 50p bin
Down the
Market on a Saturday.
No,
they look more like
Spindly
fingers creeping and crawling
Reaching
for something in the air
But
held back by their age and evil-ness.
Their
eyes in their nails,
Glancing
down at me with
Sharp
and tired disdain.
Perfectly
silhouetted.
Will I
ever be
Out of
the woods?
I've
been here a while now,
For however
many years.
But
when I find it…
That
perfect sphere of golden light
When I
find it - it will -
Will
melt away the dark eyed branches,
The
tricksy scheming mirthless roots
It will
beam light into me
So so
so bright
So so
so hot
So even
if I never find my way
Out of
the woods
At
least, at the very end
I'll be
warm.
