Meditation

Meditation

I stood naked at the edge of Shadow Forest.
Early morning fog lingers in the air,
    coating my skin in a cool mist.

Strange sounds emanate from deep within.
I shake off my timidness.
There is no weathered path to follow,
    Nonetheless; I must go.

The forest outskirt is surrounded by thick briar.
Taking my first steps the thorns bite into my flesh,
    stinging and burning the soft pads of my feet .

The scent of dew-covered grass fills the air.
My mind drifts to another place and time.
Wild flowers blow in the breeze,
      remind me of my task—my need.

Over grown ferns tickle my shoulders.
I stoop under the low hanging branches,
      my heart pounds, as the clearing comes to view.

Pine cones and  needles litter the forest floor.
Every one representing a particular memory.
Soft wet sand covers my knees and hands,
      each grain, like time, seems never-ending.

Only one more barrier to venture through.
Vines of wondrous roses entwine and tangle
      with phenomenal colors of purity.

Finally, I sit before an altar of cobblestone.
A blazing fire, fueled by animosity.
The blue cloth is spread upon its hearth,
    beckoning to me—“touch me, feel my power.” 

I run my fingers over each and every inch.
Raw emotions tingle on the surface of my skin.
Absorbing the memories that come flooding back,
    a single tear falls onto its soft folds.

I sit staring into the pit of fire.
I wonder about all that I yearn for.
This place holds too much that is dear.
Walking away now becomes ambiguous.
I am not ready and cannot let go,
      for no one, knows what the future might hold.

S.R. Hawkins
2003