“If you hit the wall,
take a left at the dogwood tree-
she will lead you home.”
I tried to remember my late English professor’s
I repeated the directions over,
and over in my mind,
when your body starts to unravel
thinking gets pushed to the side
and living, surviving
becomes the priority.
When there is such a strong feeling
I can’t help but to turn to nature, but
most people don’t.
I look at my father–the aged lines of his face,
an old hunched silver-haired woman at Acme,
and the Monsignor in heavy cloaks:
all have forgotten where they’ve come from.
But I know, so I remind them.
We are born from the soil.
We are most alive in the wind.
We are at peace in the water.
Chaos can only be soothed
if we don’t forget to take a left at the dogwood tree,
because she will lead us home.
Jillian Munn on If you could go anywhere, wher… Michael Duke on Why I Love Poetry <3 wanderf0x on εἰκών γράφειν Adam Volerich (@Adam… on If you could go anywhere, wher… michaelduke on What It Means To Die Happ…