forsarah

Kate Gervey

do you want to walk in the woods with me?

i know we used to. it's okay if you don't want to.

i was so scared then, of what darkness might be there.

i hadn't thought then, of what darkness we might bring,

what might have been left there long ago

left to grow

entwined with the poison oak,

which didn't do anything wrong -

but neither did you,

neither did any of us.

do you want to walk in the woods with me?

i know we used to. it's okay if you don't want to.

i remember countless nights smudging into mornings

and worrying that 

he wouldn't come back through the trees.

i worried, but he always did.

come back, that is.

he always came back through the trees.

at least, i thought he did, but 

now i wonder if maybe he'd never left to begin with.

maybe he's still there.

i know things were unyielding.

i think sometimes that the forest knew him better than maybe anyone did.

i think if he's anywhere, he's there.

do you want to walk in the woods with me?

i know we used to. it's okay if you don't want to.

i know these woods better than i know most. i didn't want to, then,

but now it's all i can think about.

he was never afraid, i don't think,

not of that. maybe not at all.

i was always afraid. i never wanted to be.

i wanted the woods to know me like that.

these woods are yours, though.

this is not about knowing me.

  do you want to walk in the woods with me?

i know we used to. it's okay if you don't want to.

i don't know what you're thinking,

just that you know, and you knew before.

i feel farther away from you now,

just a few steps into the mountains,

than i did when you were singing in the west.

maybe i feel farther because i wish to be closer.

maybe that's how you feel. i don't know.

i don't know what to say.

i don't have anything to say anyway,

not that i think would help, or matter.

i don't know if it's about knowing what to say, in the end.

if it is about knowing,

i'm sorry for what i cannot give you.

i can only offer what i have to you,

and i do not offer it always,

because it is mine,

but today, i'd give it freely,

today it can be yours.

if you are not ready for the woods, that's okay.

and maybe you will not ever be ready for these woods. 

that's okay too. 

there are other places to grow.

i can only offer what i have to you in spades,

and that is quiet,

that is strength,

unyielding,

like the trees that raised us.