I go

When alone in this world
when trampled upon
when thought of as weak
and unknowing
there is a place
I go.

Far beyond the reach of
any other person.
Far past city streets
and glaring lights.
Far out into the wilderness
I go.

Where little brooks bubble
along smooth pebbles
where paths are made not by rubber but paws
where nature is untouched
and stained not
I go.

Alone is how the wood stands
stacked up and squared.
Rough wood without finish,
sap, old and dry, still potent
and sweet on the breeze
I go.

A small crack allows passage
into this safe house whose
walls are welcoming voices
drawing me in.
a swelling in my chest puffs me up as
I go.

No one, no where, no way can find it.
Deeply burided as if treasure
I keep it
Only the walls move for my passage.
I am its only friend and it is mine when
I go.

Rustling leaves, owl hoots, and whispering
winds- my own lullaby
sung to me by Earth herself.
I'm given protection from uncaring, digusting
behaviors as long as I promise to do no harm to where
I go.

Is the city that bad?
To have to go so far?
yes, it is at times.
Pollution is the air and hate is the water
so that is why
I go.