by Rebecca Curless


With my thoughts I am only truly safe when I’m alone
I climb a tree and sit there thinking for hours,
Slightly uncomfortable but safely tucked away where no one can find me.
To get to this safe place I start going deep into the woods,
So far into the mountains.
This is where “my place” is,
With the smell of the trees swaying in the wind,
Or the sound of the babbling brook telling me to be free.
Here I am calm
I am safe,
I am free,
Here, I belong.
In a big city is where I’m told I will find success,
However I can feel my heart pulling me to the place of cow pastures,
And mountains bigger than any one of your skyscrapers.
How could I feel safe in a place with so much violence?
How could I be free in this concrete prison filled with more people than I’d ever seen in my life?
I know the mountain sides won’t bring me as much success as the city,
However, I know I’ll thrive there mentally and that’s worth more than anything your paper money can ever buy.
For the mountains, the trees, the woods are my home,
And it’ll take a lot more than the promise of fame and fortune to tear me away.

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