Mischa Fox

i slipped out seeking bruised blackberries black-eyed susans and bones
the trinity of my childhood and the superpowers of silent summers
lost under the haze of heat and scalding sun
the choirs of cicadas and crickets like one-inch violins
the glare of dragonflies the width of my tiny hands
i chased the glowing of lime green leaves lit from behind
as the sun bled into the hills beyond
i was craving fresh strawberries with their sugar centers
and overripe meat heady as wine
and thinking of popping raspberries with my tongue
as my hands and calves find themselves finely etched by the bramble
till scarlet gemstones well up and trickle like rivulets
as i ignore the bees and mosquitoes
and wait for the dusk and high-pitched symphony ballet of bats
i went on a vision walk
like i haven’t done in seven years
i slipped off to all my sacred spaces seeking something holy
the answer to the questions
and i knew if i found bones
i would have the reply direct from the deity of nature

i tiptoed through the tall grasses that brush my hips
i ducked under the conifers
avoiding their prickly embraces
and wandered to the hidden glade
i used to sit in the soft mists following a gentle summer rain
letting the water kiss my skin
and listen to the rustling grouse overhead in the canopy of thorn trees
that proudly resemble the temperate mountain rainforests of oregon
i closed my eyes for a moment
and could taste the fragrance of the cascades on my tongue
from vibrant memory alone

i meandered through the meadows spotted with wildflowers
and wicked ragweed that makes my nose run with salt honey
i braved every allergy
and let the soul of the earth fill me up
creep through my toes until it surrounded and warmed my soul
all the pinpoints of lavender and goldenrod
still grip my throat
and my knees liquify at the fleeting mental snapshots
of the glorious fire maples to come on the slaying winds of autumn
no horse droppings here now
the hoofmarks now are all small and cloven
no tire tracks
the half-hidden paths i used to frequent are overgrown
and new ones have been cut in their places
and i feel somewhat out of place
as i gravitate to every place i ever found holy bones

i find some of the same logs still decay where i left them
i guess i need to feel springy moss and mouldering leaves soft under my soles
and feel the rejuvenating powers of nostalgia and fresh air
and something magical i could never place or name
i needed to explore something familiar yet alien
and let it shatter and reforge my core
and it is fitting that i found a species of mushroom that day
i’d never once seen before
strewn among glossy black feathers

i have grown so much taller since i last infiltrated
and my body smaller and lithe
but the trees now tower a full third above what i remember
with each inhalation i name the flavours i thought forgotten
clover oak elm pine the musk of deer and foxes
and in the distance i revel in the music
of squirrels and turkeys screaming at my intrusion
before i cross the clearing
and break into the glory that looks molded out of tolkien
that was the birthing place of so many stories
and the breath crashes out of me as i realize
now i smell too human
and i am not virgin
so the unicorn fawns here and mythical wish-giving white stags
will not walk up close enough to pet anymore
the wild things will not let me play tag with them on horseback or foot

but

i can still find the forbidden fruits and laden vines
i can still identify by every sense things most people can’t
i can still move soundless
i can still leave my scent only where the balls of me feet fall
i can still follow the footfalls
i can still gauge time size and speed by what is left behind
i can still read miniscule movement
i can still sit motionless breathless speechless for hours

and i realize in this moment
i was better at this
than all my brothers combined
because i never came to penetrate
i never came in offensively or defensively
i simply dissipated
and emerged a new thing
at one with it
and the trees and her denizens
welcomed me with open arms
and we never told our secrets our sanctities
i came to as a strange penitent for solace and sanity
and i never could explain how this was more than my sanctuary
more than my wild church
something ethereal that always left me a touch elven
and i wonder for a moment
how i survived seven years in restless angst and wandering
trapping myself in the walls and miles of concrete and
neon lights too harsh for my photosensitive eyes so used to starlight
when this entire organism
was the only god i ever knew
and since i fled the lynch mobs and burning stakes
i have been lost lonely and empty
absolutely confused and desperately thirsty

i went to my heart-home this weekend
and felt wretched since leaving it
because i got a flavouring not an immersion
i walked away from my only cathedral starving but comforted
instead of new baptized in instinct and wonder
but
in a delicately woven patch of ripe bleeding blackberries
and lazy late season blackeyed susan
like a vibrant living carpet
i found shiny clean and new
whiter than fresh snow
what i sought the whole time
humerous scapula and clavicle
i found the remains a fox or coyote left behind for me
as if planned in advance
i forgot the question by the time i knelt over the answer
but i still found where they lay their holy bones

©️ 2007

DailyLitDeviations feature on DeviantArt

Originally posted on my DeviantArt