Life had been pruned
into a precise forest.

Any potentially disagreeable limb
severed —
painfully
tossed into the stream
of emotions to swiftly leave —
not attending to the costs

as long as all of the other chipmunks
approved of every river rock
stacked, plastered and polished
into a wall.

Then nothing could enter …
the cracks were measured too small —
the canopy of leaves, too thick.

The plants indoors
were to be shaped and shriveled,
colors to be stifled,
safe and sunless,
from the possibility of rain
or rustle of wind,

having never imagined
the storm
to be afraid of
was the silent one
within.


Writing and photography by: Katy Claire Funke

28 thoughts on “Masked forest

  1. I want a thing…
    a thing I’ve missed while sitting here,
    behind the window…
    behind the rain…
    I want a thing that runs,
    and rolls
    and mingles –
    just like tears and rivers do.

    I’ve met a couple of people who live in your part of the world recently, and it seems so lush, so spectacular.
    Would love to just walk into these pictures, and out of a few that some other voices might wish to paint me into.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. A very enigmatic poem where I think there can be many interpretations..Your beautiful photos of the lush forest,
    make me think about the plants that are pillaged from the source and sold to live in homes. They will always be imposters, in comparison to the rich forest that planted itself and was created perfectly, without human design or intervention.
    Majestic…like your poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am so honored by your words, Karima. I agree that there are forests around here that are breathtaking and seem to be right out of a magical fairytale. I try to spend as much time in their inspirational presence as I can. ✨🌳

      Liked by 1 person

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