Lost

I

EVER been lost? Well, I have, and I know
What it is like to walk miles through tall trees
In fear at the strange way their branches grow;
To stop at last to comfort shaken knees:
The wood is tree-deep and a bird comes by,
With wings that whisper like a startled breath;
The sun is lost too, in a twisted sky;
And nothing is so still, this side of death.
And fear is set upon the Sewee lands
Because one man is lost. I feel the fear
Come from the trees and take me by the hands
And finger with my heart. And then I hear
Somewhere — O far, but near enough for me! —
An axe laid to the root of some tall tree.