Leaving for Higher Grounds

Clear the path, leave the trail
Hear the sound of soft rain on an early September day
Walk away, backwards, forwards
I will not pursue.
Follow the grass to the ends of the Earth
Find the thicket, find the opening in the overgrown weeds
Find the deer bed left flattened
Just go.
Listen for the water, placid and sweet.
I will not come. I will not follow.
I am not yours to take along.
Find yourself delirious with hate and confusion amiss the beauty and ever-growing life
I will not come.