Returning To The Green Realm
By Benjamin Major
I am separated from the one I love.
I am walking around not knowing
Where I am going. I toss and turn
Instead of sleeping because
I cannot feel nor hear you there.
The pain of separation is a sore one.
The caged bird remembers the mountains.
The dying leaves dream of their budding days.
The lonely oak in the corner of the field
Longs for the ages of the vast forests.
I look for you behind windows and doors
Just in case you’re hiding there.
I go for long walks in the evenings
So that I might run into you.
I read books within which I think
Your name might be written. I cry out your name
But get no response. Is there a special
Call that brings you to the door?
I want to return. Return where?
To the primeval forests, the wilderness.
The original garden.
There you’ll be, radiant and waiting.
The scholars all tell us that wilderness
Does not exist, that it is a cultural
Invention. Nowhere left to go that has not
Felt the human hand, however indirectly.
Yet the wild still summons me.
Hand in hand with you, I will delve
Deeper into the forest then anyone has ever
Delved, through a ruined archway of tree
Branches that no one noticed before.
Into the green realm, the throbbing heart
Of the world where trees are still silent
Lords who witness the passing centuries
With tranquil certainty, and elks, bears and wolves
Maintain a court of justice, of peace.
I wander the city streets but I feel as though
I am walking on thin air. Am I the grindstone
Spinning endlessly, thinking of the rock
From which I was cut? Why am I spinning?
I’m dizzy! Who is this grinder?
I cannot see your face but know you’re here,
You were there at the rock face too.
Always there, working calmly underneath the surface.
We’re in the green realm. The two of us.
It took us a long time to get here.
We’ve made our shelter out of clods
Of earth and dead wood. We meet with
The elk, the bear and the wolves. Learn forest lore.
No suffering here, my love. No lies,
No frauds, no grading, no prejudice, no hatred,
No racism, no greed, no selfishness. The flower
That has just awoken next to the sunny
Brook on a dew covered morning
Doesn’t know anything of these.
Don’t believe that we’ll ever be there?
Close your eyes. See it now?
We’re like two spinning grindstones.
But when the world stops still and
Our focus returns we’ll stop yearning.
We’ll be shrouded in the green realm
And separated no longer,
To all those who have lost someone they love…