Lillian is hosting Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ it's about Forests!!
[ Sending healing energy Lillian's way ]
David Bruyndonckx ~ Unsplash
Twelve / soft in the bones
but braver than I knew
a borrowed sleeping bag
zippered tight / my cocoon
spread over pine needles
resting on damp earth
A circle of girls / not quite strangers
not quite sisters / until the camp fire was lit
crackling like a living thing / never fully gone
burning low and steady / counselors laughing
speaking in voices that made safety feel easy
like it had always been there
In morning smoke / pancakes crisped at edges
sweetened with syrup and smoky joy
i didn't ask what lay beyond the woods
i didn't need to / it would wait
it would always wait
And when i was ready
i would walk into the forest
not fearful / not quite fearless
but filled with something strong
just beginning to name itself

A wonderful memory told perfectly, Helen, which took me back to my girl guide days. My grandson went camping for the first time recently, but nowadays they have all mod cons, no ‘borrowed sleeping bag’ ‘spread over pine needles resting on damp earth’. But they still have camp fires – I’d be surprised if they didn’t, they are the best part! I love the final stanza with the walk into the forest ‘filled with something strong just beginning to name itself’.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kim.
DeleteWhat a wonderful memory!
ReplyDeleteIndeed🥰
DeleteBeautiful memory and beautifully express 💕(Ange)
ReplyDeleteThank you, I love challenges that offer the opportunity of looking back.
DeleteI love your coming of age story in the woods, Helen.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mystery Person! 😀
DeleteWhat wonderful memories that have stayed with you - all the senses are delighted in your words! Jae
ReplyDeleteThank you ~ Jae 🎈
DeleteWonderful memory!!
ReplyDeleteI loved how you wrote that he is starting to name (essentially define) himself!! Yes, that's how life is!!
Thanks so much for your comment!
DeleteThis is a wonderful memory... my early forest memories are so different... I mostly remember it as a place where we worked to clear the forest, so fire was mostly utilitarian
ReplyDeleteIf I were young again, and living in Central Oregon, my memories might be more in line with yours, Bjorn. Cheers!
ReplyDeleteGreat blog
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteLove your coming of age story, that time filled with brimming confidence Helen. Beautiful share!
ReplyDeleteOnce a Girl Scout the memories are "fixed" I think. It's how I got my Grandma name Woonie. LOL.
DeleteEnjoyed your memory! The last two lines are a beautiful transitional change in viewpoint and life.
ReplyDeleteThank you, True! 🎈
DeleteBeautiful, Helen! You brought back great memories!
ReplyDeleteYvette M Calleiro :-)
http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
Thanks, Yvette! Cheers.
Delete"Just beginning to name itself" - virgin girls (I suppose) in the virgin forest (hard now to even imagine), just beginning to enter each other like the first poem writes again. How lush and precious a moment.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, memories I treasure and love reflecting on ~~~ thank you!
DeleteA poetic rite of passage. How lovely!
ReplyDeleteYes indeed ~~ Thank you!!
DeleteI love how personal your poem is. You truly shared yourself via the prompt.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful, image-rich memory. I love your last line.
ReplyDeleteThe power of being, the power of forest, grounded, transformed.
ReplyDelete