We run from the city

to the floors of forests older than time

to soak in the wisdom of the redwoods,

bark rippled like an ancient woman’s skin.

And we let the sunlight dance through the leaves,

playing with light.

And we let the energy of the earth soak through our skin,

our breath.

And we let the weight of the city,

the hills,

the hustle,

the tech-bubble,

the maniac president,

fall away.

How can we be uncertain

when there are trees taller than time,

and the clouds hover over the ocean,

and we look out around us at

the passing, calm faces

of other city-folk

come here to escape—

our eyes crave open space.

There’s a reason billionaires live on top of the hill

with the widest views

to calm their eyes

after a day that is anything but calm;

working for the man,

being the man,

even if they are a woman.

We realize we don’t need the plastic,

the candy-coating to our world.

We just need earth

and water

and breath

and bright sunshine

and moody fog

and rushing blood

into beating, full hearts.

And we seek Mother in Nature,

hoping that each exhale as our skin hits cool water,

each heavy breath as we lean against an ancient red tree to catch ourselves,

each sun-kissed squint of our eyelids

will guide us back home

to the nature of our hearts.

~

~

Author: Annabelle Blythe
Image: Author’s Own
Editor: Nicole Cameron