Mount Douglas Park
Gillian Cornwall, c. March 2011
I wrote this short piece of poetic prose in the spring of 2011 upon wishing I had the luxury of a new love for spring. As a writer, one can create what one wishes to live, at least through the wonder of fiction. This is why I have titled this piece:
Come. Walk with me, hand in hand, through the rainforest on this soggy April day. Let's set aside the push and rush and take to the woods to breathe in the scent of living cedar and watch the crystal gems of God's tears drop from the needles of the fragrant pines.
Let us feel the spongy earth beneath our feet, the bounce of a million roots woven below us, our safety net from the depths, where the silent creatures crawl blindly through the dirt in their bastions of peace. Let's sit under the cedars where we cannot hear the sounds of man, where the bird song is the loudest call and there is no twitter, no tweet, text nor message of man.
Let us sit together in this harmony and remember a peaceful time in our hearts. Let me push the stray hair from your face and kiss your cherry blossom mouth. Let us go back to the mother today, to wander through the woods that lead to the shores of the Pacific, the watery womb of life, my love, my truth, my beauty.
-Gillian Cornwall, c. April 2011.