In a Clearing, in the Deep Forest by Bill Cox

Though the winter sun shines on me with the warmth of an enemy’s smile, my exertions keep my body warm. Finishing my labours, I stop and watch the pulled-out candy-floss cirrus clouds drift high overhead, my heartbeat pounding in my temple, my chest rising and falling like a manic set of bellows.

As I’m resting, a Blackbird springs from the tangled undergrowth to my front, hopping across the damp grass, its posture searching and alert. It stops for a moment, a single yellow-ringed eye meeting my gaze. I wonder what truth it sees in my eyes, what manner of soul it sees staring back at it? A guilty one? A justified one? Growing up, I was always told that two wrongs don’t make a right. But how many wrongs does a wife have to endure before encountering that right?

There are no answers here, of course, just a Blackbird scuttling away into the bushes. My heart-rate finally slows and the sound of blood rushing in my ears is overtaken by the noise of Crows squawking contentiously from the high branches of the nearby Poplar trees. They look like fluttering black sigils, rising and falling in the arboreal heights, writing avian spells on the frigid air. I wonder what hexes they might cast, what magic they might weave?

I look down at my handiwork. There’s no magic here, just a necessary job, now complete. Perversely, there is a peace, an atmosphere of contentment, about this spot, despite the disturbed earth and the quiet skin beneath. I contemplate leaving a marker here, as death, any death, seems to demand acknowledgement, respect. Then I think about the ribs that didn’t heal right, the cheekbone that still aches on cold days and I think let these, instead, be your monuments.

Shivering now, I put on my jacket. Somewhere in the distance, a Deer barks and it feels like a challenge, a judgement perhaps. I know though, that even though I have done wrong, I only did so to do right. Leaving my sins in that clearing, deep in the forest, I walk out and never look back.

Bill lives with his family in Aberdeen, Scotland. His work can be found in many, many places. Don’t go looking. Just take his word for it.

Photo courtesy of Bill Cox