Safe Places
I remember a scorched blanket
or crocheted spread
wrapped around a baby doll.
I remember sitting in the center
after finding matches on the bedside table
and Grandma Dummer’s yelp
and a splash of water.
I remember forts of fern
with stems stomped down
to form a center where I could hide
when life got hot.
On scorched days
still
I flee to the shade
of a tree canopy
where I can find my center
and be still.
Thoughts sparked by “Smoky Blankets and Safety Pins”
Where is your safe place?
In the stillness,
Sandy
“where I could hide when life got hot.”
oh, don’t we need those safe spaces sometimes 🙂
My safe place? Sitting on our deck in the forest, listening to the birds and wind in the leaves . . .
Wonderful poem, Sandy!
Hi Sandra/ Snady,
Oh, yes….a safe place 🙂 it has varied depending on what I needed…sending you a hug, my friend 🙂