Listening to my Heart

when I want
to listen to my heart,
I go to the forest -
not on a safari
where I sit pretty
in a noisy jeep,
when every restful leaf
is rattled awake
by its rude passing,
but on a slow quiet walk
through the wild grass
and unkempt paths,
where every movement
is born of a stillness,
where the eyes
and the ears
and the mouth
and the skin,
drink in the glory
of the wildness
that I seek,
a precious wildness
that emerges slowly
from the silence
that lies hidden -
the roar of a lion
from within,
from the deep.