Woods

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.