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.