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.
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.