Liminal Forest
… Where a compass twitches between What, Where, When and Who
--
Waking, panic-stricken, on the Forest floor:
scrabbling around
for the day of the week
which determines what is required of me
and where we’re meant to be that day,
plus the energy required to get us there.
Vitamin tablet dissolves in water,
beside the bed.
(The kind that makes your piss luminescent.)
Placebo effect, perhaps
but I swear ginseng is the edge
between can and can’t.
With mountains What and Where summited by 08:45
I descend into When Valley.
Overgrown with deadlines
imposed and moved; they crop up thoughtlessly,
without a conversation.
When will I lead from behind?
Who: an afterthought that surfaces later,
between navigating extra curricular activities
and poking clumps of cold beans down the sink
as I prepare for my second “day” at the office.
Around 22:30, Why rolls in
with her friend Why Not
and pours us all a drink.
Wine strokes strained vocal chords.
Eyes stinging from the screen
demand a reason to keep diligently pushing keys
(rather than pressing pedals,
softly dampening taught strings
played with Ivory).
Then I remember.
This space:
this in-between place,
in which I’m rushing, doing,
stressing, cursing, hushing
is mine
and what matters now
is How
I climb the mountains
and I cross the valleys.
Each day I wake up
lost. Sometimes,
I write my way out;
trying to spin a better story
for the ones I love
and leave a trail for others
who’ve become disoriented
in Liminal Forest
there’s a compass that twitches
between What, Where, When and Who.
“Make your own way!” The signs say.
“Beat down the brambles to make a path!”
How?
© Amy Knight 2022
