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.