Woods Journal
Woods Journal
Wilderness's Eulogy
Screaming
Campus Woods
A Man's World
Screaming.
It’s a constant buzz in my brain.
Filling my lungs full of smoke and ashes.
People run through me,
use me, abuse me.
I am dead, yet somehow still breathing.
Another chunk is taken out of my body.
“Virgin Wood”
they call it.
Meant for some grander purpose other than the one it was already here for.
Miles and miles of my forests are cut down
and used for what.
Toilet paper?
A new notebook?
A coffee table that will be thrown out in five years?
I’m screaming, yet nobody hears.
My bowls are full of microplastics.
The cells in me slowly dying
choking on energy that was never there.
Bellies full of beads never meant to sustain even the smallest of my creatures.
I used to be a home.
A place where people could take refuge.
Find love, find peace.
Find solace on a cold winter’s night
where no one else cared whether you would see tomorrow.
Screaming.
I am slowly dying. Being stripped away.
Piece by piece. Hour by hour.
Bills signed. Orders proclaimed.
All for their betterment.
My loss.
Yet.
There is hope.
A new group of humans.
They see me. Hear my screams.
Heed my warnings and feel my call.
They come with warm embraces
and trash bags.
Lots of trash bags.
Piece by piece is picked up and taken out of my woods.
New life is given to my barren lands.
They’re coming back
In droves.
To visit and see my beauty
Restore it to its former glory.
My children are coming back to me.
My streams are bubbling again.
The birds echo my call.
“Take only what you need”
“Visit often.”
“Don’t overconsume and abuse me.”
Will it stay?
Will I still be held in reverence and glory?
Or will I turn
into the products
of your labor once more?
Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter.
I’m here every day, every hour.
Waiting for you to come visit.
Surrounding you with my beauty.
I sit in silence as you pass by.
The fruits you used to eat still grow under my canopy.
Waiting for you to discover it again.
The deer graze under my watchful eye.
Alert and anxious for your return.
The birds sing songs of your praise.
Of how you used to come here every day.
With your friends,
Family,
Lovers,
You brought bottles and baskets.
Frisbees and notebooks
All for your games and days out under my leaves.
Pictures were snapped (as were the twigs)
Paintings slapped on canvases with bags strewn about my floor.
Bottles left behind after hours underneath my shade.
As the seasons changed, so did you.
You grew taller,
Wiser.
Brought more and more things with you.
Even your dog, Teddy.
Then something changed.
One day
You stopped coming
I grew lonely. So very lonely.
Seasons passed by without you.
I only had the ghosts to keep me company
Other students came and left,
But it wasn’t the same.
They didn’t talk to me like you did.
Never told me about your whimseys and woes.
I waited, and waited, and waited.
In the spring, I grew the brightest wildflowers
You would have loved them.
My stream ran cool, just how you loved it.
In the summer,
I made my canopy reach for the sky
looking for you.
The days were hot, but I kept the forest floor cool for you.
Some of my plants were starting to fruit.
I held onto them as long as I could,
But they still fell to the ground.
In the fall, I put on the most dazzling show.
Colors you couldn’t dream up, I splashed onto my leaves.
Waiting.
Hoping that you would return.
The deer started asking about you.
They would whisper to the ghosts
In the dark of winter
Wondering where you’ve been
The ghosts would whisper back
They left.
Then one fateful day
You came back
With a class full of people
Phone in one hand
A water bottle in the other
Wide, determined eyes, ready to take on the world
And all I had to offer.
I’m so glad you came back.
A woman’s place
Is in the home.
The domestic place is
Where she ought to belong.
Yet,
She stands at the edge of the forest.
Staring into the abyss
The miles and miles of trees lie ahead
Tempting her
Begging her to come in.
She mustn’t,
Shouldn’t.
There's a place to be at home.
A dinner to be cooked,
Dishes washed,
Clothing to be hung out on the line.
Yet,
The dunes call to her,
Winds whisper in her ears,
“Come and play!”
“Learn what we have to teach you.”
“There is time for the things at home
When we are done.”
She stands at the edge of the wilderness.
It’s great expanses holding arms open wide
“Come to me!”
The trees sing
“We will care for you in ways society never could!”
And she listens
She walks into the woods,
climbs the mountains,
travels the far reaches of the ocean
and she learns
She learns how to read the stars
What is good to eat
Where to go to stay warm and dry
She builds a home for herself
Plank by plank
Becoming the rugged man society told her she would be
If she ever stepped foot
In the woods
She doesn’t look back
Not when her husband calls
Or when her phone starts to ring
Emails go unanswered for days, weeks, months, years
The wilderness never felt so freeing
It’s been 10 years
She hasn’t aged a day
The wilderness taught her the secrets to life
To be unending and ever present
To just be
Alive
And one with herself
Her wild side
For it wasn’t the wind whispering
Or the trees singing
Or the dunes holding space
It was herself and the women before her
Who taught her how to be
How to live amongst nature and live with its bounty