My own brush
with invisibility
left me to despair
and to fight
the winds of change.
The forest left
no utterance
and I was alone
to wrestle with flesh,
the berries, and bones.
Indicated
My own brush
with invisibility
left me to despair
and to fight
the winds of change.
The forest left
no utterance
and I was alone
to wrestle with flesh,
the berries, and bones.
seasons: a poetic journey 
This is a really great poem, particularly the second stanza. Really nicely done!
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Thank you! 🙂
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