‘Is it fun to watch a forest fire when you know the forest inside out?’
When you know each branch, each tendril
Each hollow, each beam of gentle light
Sneaking naughtily through the canopy.
The forest that sheltered you.
Gave you the water of life!
When your wary traveller’s feet
Couldn’t walk anymore.
And sang her sweet lullaby
As you fell deeply
Asleep in her lap of moss and roses.
And nursed your tired soul
Like every little flower under those big leaves,
In the warm sunshine.
That forest that taught you
Too see the magic in life,
And in yourself.
Encouraged you to climb the trees,
And caught you if you fell.
But ever gave up on you
For she saw that you were destined for the light
Beyond her heavy, dark leaves
And she prodded you on
Till you reached.
Until one day.
That forest that you grew out of
Then left you to fend for yourself .
She taught you to dream
Not how to chase it.
So you break away.
Watch the forest become a distant memory.
Move to the concrete jungle
Wonder if your insignificant steps
The forest cannot forget?
For she is big, wise and old.
Layers and folds.
Surely she can still survive
When she keeps everything else alive.
So you come back one day
Much against her rebuttals and dismay
And you find her on fire.
A sort of lost desire
And you try to set the fire out
But it started from within.
Or save anything.
So do you quietly watch
Listen to her protests and shouts
As she tells you she wants no
Water of life from your soul.
Watch her lovely layers burn
Replacing the tendrils of light
The smell of fire in the night.
Do you silently watch?
Do you walk away?
Or do you stay,
And fight for your home?
No, it’s not fun to watch a forest fire when you know the forest inside out.
Not for me, at least.