Lost in the woods

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For those who are lost in the woods

The songs of birds don’t matter.

The breadcrumbs have been eaten,

The rain washed the tracks

untrodden.

Branches bend in a stalker hug,

while twigs snap under running feet.

For those who are lost in the woods

blessed silence is frightful.

And the noise sends chills down the spine.

It rapes the ears and summons the heart 

To run

to where the sun peeks through the leaves –

a pale sentinel of lost children,

calling them home.

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