April 12, 2021
Photo by Lilly Schwartz
Forest Dreaming
by Jenine Bsharah Baines
Am I sleepwalking
rather than forest bathing?
Has the guardian of this mysterious place
put me in a trance
that I might become one of the 12%
who dream in black and white
that my perspective might shift –
from how this moment,
these aches in my shins,
those past treks
colorize my Walk –
to the form, shape, and textures
of the oaks, birch, yews,
and pathways within?
Some say forest dreams
are images of resistance.
Of refusal to let go
to move forward
into the thicket ahead,
even if on tippy toe,
with no expectations except Trust.
I see You, there to my left,
left as Signpost
for what I will indeed
leave behind – whether
You are a dryad, Faunus Himself,
or a trick of light from the right
showered in shadow.
As Offering, I leave my backpack.
My crayons and paints, my shards
of outdated dreams.
