Her snowcapped dress disappears,
as forest on compass interferes.
She can not be azimuth for escape,
why some had left trail of yellow tape.
bowing usher points on with blighted limb,
wretching out it's own hemlock gin.
path in is beaten, with log and stone,
crevices drown a webbed saliva moan.
path out is unbeaten and hard to find,
from death's brambles on the mind.
all trees seem to want to die,
no effort to brush of strangling vine.
where you think they have broke loose,
swaying ropes that once had noose.
and where there is light, is mossy glen,
just enough, for one last note to pen.
dolls, cloths, skulls make up forest litter,
shoes, bottles, and smiling family picture.
A forest worker tries to help them leave,
but if gloom can prevail over Mount Fuji,
something stronger is needed for leaving
penetrating gloom--giving them a reason.
© Copyright 2016 Kaithe. All rights reserved.