The Haunted Forest

The Drive is One, that regardless of any Amount of Time Passed,
I know in my Mind
Like a Story that I have Heard and Read
A thousand times


It's a story that I share
with only two to three in This Life.
Sign Posts marked
by the Remnant twisted Trees
of the Biggest tornado
in the Areas History;
houses Rebuilt by 
Determination and Love;
turns past the last real Suburb;
Randy's store and The Grove
The Veering off to the right and past the 
Sheriff's office.


You past the place where the
High School used to be,
Before the twister made
a mockery of the Strength
We think we hide behind.


The Twists and Turns
more frequent and sharp
As you travel on;
Closer and closer
you get to the Peace you Seek.


The Peace of the River,
the Quiet, the Stillness ...
The Love
And the Laughter.


But you have to drive
Through The Haunted Forest
before you can clear the top of that Hill
and See your Destination's just 'a Stone's throw Away'.
One Last turn to the Camp where the darkness
Opens up to the Lushness of Green
and Air of Blue and Endless Peaceful Movement
of the Water traveling it's Course onto the Gulf
Taking with it's current, any lingering Worry
that You didn't leave behind
on your Journey here.


Driving through The Haunted Forest,
with Its wood so thick
and Its Turns so Sharp;
I always play games with Myself about the 
Haunts that live in that short passage from
all that Represents Life before
Into a Life with Purpose and Individual Choice;
Self Survival.


It could be seen as an Hour-Long Microcosm
Of Life's Journey, I suppose ...
Maybe thats just too dramatic.
But My Imagination has always had that Flair ...
And For as Long as I have traveled this road ...
Warrior River Road to Camp Oliver ...
I have imagined that Tiny Little Fairies,
Little Faes of the Wood,
Traveled with Me on the Hood of my Car
To Protect my passing through The Haunted Forest


(A gift in the form of an old story, given to me as a little girl from a friend from 
across the pond in London)


And I smile and laugh at myself 
for such foolery, such folk lore.
When I. deep down inside, 
That Little Girl is really a bit scared of
What she might find
On the Other side of the Wood.


Well I guess I'm finally on the Real
Other Side
And the Man I Loved
is Gone ...
And the Haunted Forest?
Not so haunted, Just Empty and Still
and Quiet...

(c)2011jsblankenship
in memory of Jack Dempsey Blankenship, my Poppa
b May 25, 1928 d January 29, 2011