He Has Gone To The Woods
He has gone to his woods;
a quest for truth that cannot be found
in city’s round and round
it takes a crooked walk and brush
of reaching branches that caress,
or sting, to find such authenticity
and form for such language
that only bards can access.
He has gone to the woods;
where ancients dance in delight
at his approach: there wait is longer
than our wait for his return,
down the mountain, down the rutted trail,
down his well-worn path
carrying out his renewed strength,
like scroll, like tablet, like a cleansed warrior
crawling out from sweat,
to command such audience that knows
the sacred tick of tongue and pen.
He has gone to the woods;
to speak for us, to plead, to pray
for those of us who can not walk ourselves,
nor decipher precise psalms,
nor, perhaps, be worthy of such climb
and so we wait, like hungry children, on curbs,
on couches, at the cusp of clouded screens
for his return; a more refined man, comes,
in ways the world has no babble to explain.
He has gone to the woods.
For Richard Doiron http://www.spiritsinpeace.com/
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