Wednesday, February 11, 2015

What I Remember

I remember wanting to spend time alone. I was eleven.
I lay on the forest floor, far from the others,
pinned to the ground by green light
filtered through summer trees.

I wanted to memorize the moment,
to fix in my body the precise scent of moist shadows,
the rhythm and texture of birdsong,
the pattern of branches laced across the blue sky.

I wanted to remember the forest’s soft sigh
rippling through the tree tops from left to right
like something footed and running.
I wanted the details to etch themselves into my brain,
begged the particulars to press into my skin.

But memories of that moment are fragmented and slippery.
All I can remember clearly is my own fierce trying
and my conviction that if I could hold on to the details,
they would save me.

Oriah House (c) 2015

Photo from Mike K at


  1. Awesome! You have portrayed this so sensitively. I can so relate to this.