I went to my mother for comfort
When I was too young to know better.
Later I turned to dope, speed, acid.
As comfort goes that was good for a while.
Much later I drowned myself in the comfort of alcohol.
Or perhaps it was anaesthesia. I don't recall.
Today, I leave my daughter's house
Driving down country lanes
My feathers ruffled.
Indignations sparking like a light bulb
With a faulty lead.
I long for the forest.
Let me walk deep into the woods
Rest my back against an ancient oak
Feel the life thrumming through it
Hear it call me by my true name
Let me bathe in the stillness
And savour the silence between
The blackbird and the thrush
Let the sunlight come
Dream weaving through the leaves
And the forest breathe between
Earth and sky
Let me lie among the boughs
And take comfort from the ancient healing
Of the trees.