If you listen closely, you can hear the echos of all the souls who once frolicked here; a path in the past full of lush life, birds in the trees, rain droplets falling off of soft flower petals, nourishing the green carpet that used to hug the soles of my feet. I recall the sour taste of freshly foraged rasberries, providing security to many creatures. I remember laughter. I remember joy. I remember peace. The forest gave those things, willingly; lovingly..
Now hushed and sparcely remembered, behind a locked gate full of bullet holes, wind cuts through the blackened and barren trees, inspiring the dry grasses to sing their quiet winter song, in rememberance to the burned and terrified souls who had to leave the only home they knew. I cry with the forest. She cries with me.
