If a tree falls in the forest
Does it make a sound
If I scream in the night
Does anybody listen.
I’m hoarse.
If I don’t remind the universe
Of my existence
Will it remember
The little girl in the forest
Who is still there.
Maybe if scream louder.
Maybe I don’t want to be found
And rescued
Like every time before
When one of you came
And carried me off to the sunset
Until the next sun would rise
And I would leave
Because I was scared.
I was meant to live in the forest
Where I can get my hands dirty
Run free
No hands around me
I like the silence
I really don’t mind.
But if I scream in the night
Will it make a sound
And echo like the owl’s mournful cry
Or the wind and the waves
Or will there be
Silence.
About the Creator
Sara
Don’t look for love.
Be love.
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The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham4 days ago in Fiction
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