Sanctuaire

Climbing higher and higher into the canyon

Praying that it will just eat me up and keep me safe from the real world.

Because when I'm in the trees nothing matters.

I'm a native to their branches and the birds are my friends.

Crowns weaved of wildflowers and rings of grass.

I'm coming home.

Home to where we played Indians.

Where we swam in oceans of tall yellow grass 

with handfuls of sunflowers and Indian paintbrush.

To where the forts were made in the branches

Stacked as high as our toes would take us.

To where we mixed squished berries and dirt 

Only to cover our faces with the grimiest of masks.

No tree hear has been unscouted

No ditched uninhabited.

This is our home.

This is our freedom.

At least until our mom's call us home for dinner

And baths.

Drawn to it as a bee to a flower.

Hiding away from the "real" problems

The "real" decisions.

Sanctuary.

Heaven.

Firsts kisses and tag through the giants.

Never will its meaning dwindle.

For this is where we go to find out

Who we really are.

Humans returning to destiny.

Getting lost in your glory on purpose because only then is it easier to find myself.