The forest is a good place to take your troubles.
When you walk there, you have to leave them behind,
to pay attention to the rough terrain, to the rocks and roots
buried beneath the carpet of fallen leaves. And the leaves
themselves attract your notice with their varied shapes
and colors so artfully arranged. The bark of the trees
draws you with its dance of textures and hues that travel
all the way up until they touch the sky. And all the while,
there’s the wondrous silence, torn now and then
by the wondrous calls of crows. You can pretend
that you are a tree and stand perfectly still and sense
the strength and wisdom that surrounds you.
You can pretend that you’re breathing clean air,
that the poisons coating everything around you, embedded
in the soil beneath your boots, aren’t really there.
And the trees will take your fear and sorrow
and exchange them for their peace.