The Sixth Room: A Poem

In the blood-warm waters of dream

There is a place

A forest.

In the center, a calm, frozen stream gleams in the moonlight

Tall trees stand infinitely on all sides

You cannot leave

You have no desire to.

It is dark

Blurred streaks of blues and greens run seamlessly through the forest

You know that there is a reason

For this imprisonment each night

The forest wants something from you.

A thick silence

Gentle wind softly brushes your face

Leaves bristle in anticipation

Mourning doves cry, and then they too,

hold their breath

How long has the forest been waiting?

A stab of fear in your heart

Asking

Am I going to die?

Must the branches of this place,

the vines and tendrils,

Take your body?

Willingly give your flesh

To nourish the forest

And you may leave.

Intimidating silence

The birds gather in the trees to watch

A kind of hunger glistens in their beady eyes

A fear you’ve never known before takes hold of your throat

A feeling like this

Was never meant to be found

This forest is quiet,

This forest is calm,

This forest wants you

to stay forever,

This forest knows your secrets

There is nowhere left

to hide.