---

Rebecca Frank | + Follow Poet |
Narrative | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

---

The Forest

As I entered the forest 
My feet gained an uncanny rhythm
Crunching below the surface of a hundred years
The snow intermittently tracing the way

It was a cold presence that surrounded me
Though there was a fire inside my body
That was eager to recall the people that crossed this path
Recalling memories by the fresh water spring

These memories were so vibrant
As if my grandmother was still here
Bending over to catch the trickling water in her milk carton
Embedding a confidence in me about natures truth

This was a time of reflection
Witnessing the instilled values of this land
The animals that roamed freely
Fish that made home in the heart shaped pond

The winter here brought such clarity
As I sat by the fresh water spring 
I was eight years old again
and an image of my grandmother picking nettles arose

We were deep in the forest
Listening with intention to her knowledge of herbs and plants
Returning home to bask in our glory
Large cartons of blackberries and raspberries lined the tarnished kitchen table

The clarity I received
Filled me up with love and respect
For the arduous labor and sacrifice 
The endless commitment

My mother grew up on this land
and I wanted to know her then
I wanted to go back in time
and see her free, dancing in the front lawn 

My grandfather built the family's home with his own bare hands
Putting his destiny into every slab of wood
and brick he laid
A fortress of his own making

Part of me wanted to stay here forever
Though I knew this was just the foundation
A testimony to the lineage engraved in my soul
Pushing me to challenge, create a new

My roots had wings
Just as my grandmother did when she fled Europe
Believing in a life 
Initially unseen and unheard

I will call on this strength
For its power remains
Revealing itself
in the depths of the forest

Copyright © Rebecca Frank | Year Posted 2017

Please Login to post a comment