Lost in the Forest
by Pablo Neruda (the wonderful)
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood—-
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
…
The other day my family went to a different church and it was decorated with about four Christmas trees. My sister B commented that she thought it was weird: since when would you have more than one tree?
Well - in a forest? A forest of Christmas trees? On a Christmas tree farm?
And B said well none of them would be decorated would they. But imagine if they were! Amazing! An electric/fire/death hazard maybe, but surely beautiful.
My nephew E went to dig up his own tree with his daddy the other day. He was very proud of himself.
{picture from Lolita}
