bluebells, wood, sussex

The Truth Branch // Creative

They hang them from the trees, the truths

and confessions,

Until the forest is covered

and the trees are whispering with the secrets

of a people.

 

The lies are buried underground,

under the rich, tight soil,

and the anonymous truths

sing in the wind.

 

The girl stands there,

in the centre of the woods,

barefooted, eyes reaching up into the high

covered branches,

and she listens –

listens to the singing and wailing

of the truths hanging from the branches of this ancient forgotten forest.

 

She clutches her truth in her hand,

reaches up to search for that free branch

and places it

where it will never be seen again.

 

The forest is gone now,

submerged under the ocean

that closed in on the land.

 

The people’s secrets are forgotten

they swim among the sea creatures

and plants,

the water moving and carrying them along

with the tide.

 

The forest is just a whisper

A memory – nothing more.

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