only the forest can hear me cry.
it sympathizes with me,
through the drops of melted snow,
falling onto my neck and nose,
from the branches above.

years of tears from others,
pad my footsteps,
on the forest floor.

roots so strong,
that i have to step over them,
because the strength of suffering,
has nourished them into undefeat.

lichen unbothered by the cold,
with ears that have heard sorrow,
unknown by anyone.

rocks split and eroded,
from time,
the only inescapable killer.

green leaves emerge,
as a fog of vegetation in the distance,
and on nearby twigs,
as a reminder that hope is closer than i realize,

and that,
when the pews of humans do not answer,
the chaotic order of the forest does.