Woods: A Ghazal
Joseph Larson
I remember running through the woods with all my speed,
The fallen trees, the fallen leaves, and that smell. Autumn’s brisk air, memories came rushing back into my head, Like a dam that has just been opened, but that smell. I went to these Virginian woods, it was my safe place, I eventually stopped running, out of breath, still smelling that smell. All I wished was to make a fire, where adults couldn’t say no, However, my six-year-old brain was all too curious about that smell. Ditches surrounded the fallen trees, sometimes filled with water, Sometimes filled with animal’s burrows, so what was that smell? I was not far from home, just down the hill from my house, So, what was this stench? This wretched, foul odor: this smell. The carcasses of four to six dead raccoons. Piled onto one another, As if they were linkin-logs, each one adding to the other’s smell. My love for animals could not fathom the atrocity which I stood in front of, Mass grave of innocent animals, each one taken apart, reeking with that smell. I slowly walked back home, no thoughts in my head, no energy to run. That image entrenched in my brain forever, and that smell, that godforsaken smell. |
I am Joe Larson, and I believe this to be my best piece of work.
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