Mission

Mission creek

I walked into the woods
to let go.

The sadness,
the grief,
the self judgment.

I walked and walked,
round and round,
hoping, hoping
to wear it out of me

The trees whispered
remembrances to me.

Not me remembering them.
Them remembering me.

They remembered
kindness
and love,
understanding
and passion.

“We see you,”
they said.
“We witnessed
it all.”

I did not imagine it, then?

“No.
We see you.”

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