the dancer comes into the forest
and so the thrumming begins
all the knots fashioned for staying done up forever
begin to unravel
and with every one of its unturnings
we see color and language we never saw before
there are new ways to say things
new ways to feel
and all the dark missions of our soul
soar outward through our breath
all the wounded heartbeats
settle to a slow crawl on the floor of the forest
our palms turn upward to that hazy blue floating above
and we release the heavy sentiments through our fingertips
we are airborne
one in the other
the dancer in the trees
the trees with the sway of the dance
we are above ourselves
looking down
we see the stark realities of our broken bodies
the hurt layering over beneath the skin
and all those bleak moments
swollen with disappointment
disappear
the swarm of our fears is loosened
the lying down of the broken dream, rises
and our eyes that were two tired birds
fluttering
now come alive in the forest dance
and the swirl of our wings is the joy of tomorrow
the forest drives the dancer to glory
and the glory drives the forest to peace
- barbara mitchell