The wood within

The wood within
is dark and deep,
close-set with many trees-
the leaves stand stiff
like armour strapped,
untouched by any breeze.

A woman bent
and old as time
came out and turned to greet-
her face in shadow,
eyes black, sharp,
a chance, myself to meet.

And when I asked
her what it was
that she did darkly seek,
she cried: 'Your soul,
is what I want, for
it is mine to keep.'

The groan within
was dark and deep,
fear filled, took hold
and locked. I stood
stone-still,
I could not move,
as on my tomb
she knocked.

I turned and fled,
the forest deep,
and prayed once more
for light. I knew
I left not far behind
my own eternal night.

And when I sat
in safe, bright day
and turned my eyes
to see, I knew the woman
was my guide,
and she could set me free.

The wood within,
it is my own -
I planted every tree.
The woman old,
and bent by time,
can lead myself to me.

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