The Woods

Submitted by Benedicta on Sun, 08/19/2018 - 05:00

There was a wood my family owned
I oft went there when I was small;
Ne’er went I there, save once, alone—
Down to those trees so straight and tall.

Upon that day, I went to see
The creek, and lush green sorrel growing
How delightful it was to be
There without my family knowing.

I sat beneath a spreading pine,
In deep thought, I ate my sorrel,
Suddenly the blackberry vines
Were wet upon the un-mown hill.

This sudden rain increased my joy,
These drops fell not on my own hair.
Then all at once the sound, ohoy!
Benedicta! cut through the air.

I yelled back to the unknown voice
My own small sound was lost at once
But still I had no other choice
I left the woods with much reluctance.

Many years later, I came back
Chopping my way down that same hill,
Eating nettle and sorrel snacks
Barefoot in the creek standing still.

My feet were in the same cool water
As they were many years ago
Yet life was different and I was taller
To laugh or cry I did not know.

E’en though my years passed quickly by,
One thing in my life had not changed
"Benedicta!” that self-same cry
I turned and faced the years ahead

Author's age when written


I’m so happy to finally experience your talent. :) I must admit that I had high expectations of your writing, but you did not disappoint!
I love the imagery you used, as well as the subtle message of change and growth. Thank you for sharing. :)

I don’t thrive off of chaos: chaos thrives off of me.

I really like this poem, Benedicta. I remember the first time I heard it when you read it aloud... it was so enjoyable to hear and I really enjoyed the expressiveness you gave it... especially the line,

One thing in my life had not changed,
"Benedicta!" ...

I'm hoping that this will be only the first of many posts. :)

"The idea that we should approach science without a philosophy is itself a philosophy... and a bad one, because it is self-refuting." -- Dr. Jason Lisle

Good job getting the feeling of the happiness of being a child in a special place without others knowing. Also the peculiar happiness of being dry in the woods while hearing raindrops hit the leafy roof. I like the image of the blackberries being wet, instead of just seeing the drops fall. I can picture it very clearly.

Probably someone calling your name is the most distinctive part.

It seems to be about that tension or balance between the journey into the private world/self discovery (a journey into the woods,) and the responsibilities/demands of society (the call.) Does that sound scholarly? It might be a smart comment, I'm not sure.

It also seems in a wistful nostalgic way to be about what Heraclitus said so long ago "Everything changes and nothing remains still ... and ... you cannot step twice into the same stream"

Also, if one has eaten raw nettles and sorrel, the mention of that brings up distinctive flavours.

And he was just wondering, for he was a severe critic of his own work, whether that last line couldn't be polished up a bit...
~P.G. Wodehouse

Such a beautiful poem!! <3 I really enjoyed the imagery and ah, it's just so lovely. Thanks for sharing!

“planting seeds inevitably changes my feelings about rain.” —luci shaw.
psalm 84:10 esv.