Written by Sarah Wissman


There is a forest,

Where the trees grow gnarled and tall.

Thick black limbs reach up to the misty sky.

Century old leaves are curled to dust.


It is silent.

Except for a whisper of fear,

That hisses between the branches.

In the centre of the forest

There is a lake.

If you were to find this lake

You would walk where no creature has laid foot before.

For the water is poisoned

And the air is stale.


This place was created over years

And there it will stay until the end of time.


But far away there is another place,


A grove of trees in a patch of sunlight

Cherry blossom trees to be precise.

If you’re lucky,

On a windy day the petals will fly through the breeze

As though by magic.


On summer days,

golden light bathes the grove,

creating shimmering patterns upon the ground.


At night,

you can close your eyes with the image of stars on the back of your eyelids

as you fall asleep with the warm breeze

under the faint light of the solitary moon.


There is a fountain,

On sunny days you can find sparrows playing in the water

Diving into crystal blue.


But, I have not told you of the grey fence.

The one that surrounds you

and flies over your head,

Locking you in until you are dead.