Walking in silence I pull you along, wondering, wandering, your face flushed and long.
Jumbled fingers and skinned up knees, you’re asking me, begging me, crying, “stop, please!”
A whisper is all I can give you. A hand brushed against your face. Water dampens my fingertips, and we rush on.
Running, not walking now, I pull you. Stretching legs and hammering hearts, the wind picks up and suddenly we’re slipping in mud, blinking through rain.
Must I go through this again?
Leaves swirl and branches whip across skin, I’ve lost the path. The sounds begin.
A wailing sound, or is that the wind? It creeps closer and I draw you in.
You’re safer when you’re close to me, or maybe that’s what I tell myself.
I can see the eyes, that scarlet glow, the rotted breath tells me all I need to know.
My arms open.
I leave you here, as I walk to the jaws below.
[January 2017]
Woolgathering 