23 Sept 2019

We Are 138 # 31 - To A Land Walker

People leave their letters at the forest edge in hopes the wind will carry them out to sea, oblivious most don't, because I catch them. They're my only connection to the inward land I left behind years ago, with no means of return unless I am found.

The wind-thrown trees were not this curved when I left. They were saplings, reaching straight and true for the sun. Their curling boughs and broad trunks offer me some respite against the salty winds, but I cannot stay here forever. The ocean is calling me back. My heart needs this warm land's soil once again. If the trees have grown so much in my absence, then what of my friends? My loved ones?

I am here. Come and find me. I have done what I must out there in the waves.

Brad Medd, a writer from West Yorkshire. Aspiring poet and short story author.

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