Seeking Wild and Green Fire

Even in the company of many,

the child in me knew forest’s green fire.

She danced and swung in secret song of pine

needle and reindeer moss, long branches and

snake-filled slate fences tumbled here and there

from rock out-cropping under worn pathways.

Forgive me, I beg her, for losing you

in the workaholic buzz of adults.

There, I sought out groups to feed your hunger—

dance classes and theatre groups, covens and

church services—but I wished you quiet

while I followed a narrower calling.

Our spirit blazed in red, white, and blue, but

neglected the green fire of forest and

earth, neglected the wildness of rest and

solitude. Now, I want you to make noise.

Forgive me, I beg you, for neglect and

harm. Please come back. Come back. I am ready

to love you. Forgive me. I thought I had

to choose between civilization and

the wild, forest and town, work and play, you

and me. Forgive me. There is no between.

I hear you call. Let’s join the green fire

among our two pines and one dogwood tree.

 For the earthweal weekly challenge: GREEN FIRE (WILD AND SACRED)

My blog poems are rough drafts.

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© 2022 Susan L. Chast