Old Salt, New Wounds

I broke the other day, not like 

a thing, but as an animal breaks 

in winter. I wanted suddenly to throw 

away my phone, all the mechanics

of this modern life. I took my warm

blooded body to the silent gateway

of the forest. It was morning. The light 

was a silver memory along the edges 

of the trees. I stood at the threshold,

and felt the snow fall like salt 

upon a wound. I did not know if

I could enter the forest without

crying, so I cried, for what reason,

I couldn’t tell you, only I was 

something new when I emerged.