rain-painted escape

It’s not easy to think
the gnats flying around
each a different thought
circling, never landing
How can I stand on my own two feet
when I don’t know what I’m standing for?
I stopped by the road to move a turtle
His name was Mortimer,
I didn’t ask,
He told me.
Later in the rain
I saw a swallowtail
frozen with her wings
still flapping
each was a chalky print
dots in a grid,
a matrix for nature to duplicate.
As the rain pooled where my fingers had been
I wondered how peaceful her sleep could be
in the grass by the roadside
along with the Wendy’s trash
mile-markers back to
“civilization”
Yet here,
where worms and woods
matter more
than money and ego
I have to disagree.
There is nothing civilized about
a great big blacktop
or chrome
or smoke pouring into the sky from columns.
There is nothing civilized about
food from a fryer
that makes your stomach churn
Congress and democracy
where no voices are heard
houses
where there is no love at all
and the little boy cries
for an egg.
There’s something about the trees that wards off the need for technology
And something in the water that washes away the need to consume
Yes,
after four days in the woods
you smell
you smell human
Yes,
you chafe
you blister
you freeze
you sweat
you feel
you feel alive
It isn’t something you get from five minutes
or something that comes from pretending
It takes days
it takes feeling the sweat fall from your face
and welcoming it
it takes walking in a creek with no shoes on
and leaving them off when you get to dry land
it takes fire, friends, frustration, appreciation and time
relaxation, a watchful eye, the will to try to find your way
when it’s dark and you’ve lost your flashlight
it takes grass stains and the rain falling
down across your shoulders
into your mouth as you lean your head back
to catch it
like the glint of sun off of the water
instead of a sea of glass
towers of wood
instead of concrete
feeling peaceful
instead of lonely
I stood today and watched two sticks floating down
on top of the water
like kings
one took the easy path through the deepest parts
the second chose the harder road
through turns and spins
the rocks became waterslides

the second stick had more fun.

Today I sat and looked at myself
standing in the creek deciding
which path to take
only to realize
I’ve lost my map
from years of misuse
I guess I’ll have to go on instinct,
which isn’t so bad
when you realize,
Instinct is just your heart’s battle cry.