by Brylan Hoxworth
Inspired by Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
The woods were lovely, dark, and deep
But what of it? She asked as she trudged,
Knee deep in snow.
The deep darkness of these woods
Cannot make me slow.
So on she trudged,
With miles and miles to go,
Whisking off the words they shrieked with doubt
“You cannot do it alone,” they said
“For you’ll never make it out.
The woods are deep and dark and deadly
And you’ll never survive on your own.”
But what of it? she asked again, alone
Just as she liked it
The woods are lonely, deep, and desperate
I suppose we’re the same in that way.
I’ve always admired these woods
For their honesty
And their ability to carry the snow
And its weight.
Because what of it? What of the snow?
What of its weight?
Why would you think I can’t carry my fate?
It’s my own, isn’t it?
It’s mine, right?
Then why do you assume that I’ll fly instead of fight?
“No one’s conquered these woods before,” they said.
Let me be the first to make it out alive, or carry me out dead.
And they waited for the okay to say
“I told her so,”
But she trudged on through the woods,
miles and miles through the snow.
And she knew she could conquer the deep dark woods
In all of its loveliness
To keep the promises she made.
And what of it? What of its weight?
What of that can hinder my fate?
I must get going I’m already late.
and they laughed as she cried
and she wished she had died
because for one second she believed their lie
that she wouldn’t make it outside.
