The Grand Wood-Man

 

Tall tree, towering over the

meek little twigs I've found in

the forest, with a top so high

that you could look upon my

heart into the distant future,

why are you so cruel to me?

 

Not a word from you, not a

single rustle from your lips--

leaves swaying in the wind

to carry out your word.

 

Why is it that you never grant

me your shade, your protection,

or admit that my tears may in fact

allow you to grow?

 

When is it that you curl me up

in your branches, or shelter me

in your strong limbs?

 

Yet, year after year, rainy season

after rainy season, I'm beneath

you watching you from the solid

ground that never seems quite

sturdy enough.

 

I touch your trunk, and feel the

raw energy; you are my conduit.

 

And still, never a word when I

might need it most, instead I'm

left curious, as you seem to move

from spot to spot, always one

step ahead of me.

 

One day, my strudy tree-friend,

I'll cut you down, and have them

uplift your stump, roots and all.

 

And then I'll forget the way into

the dark forest, you always called

me home to.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Clockwork]

Upon reading this poem again, it reminds me of The Giving Tree. The tree has a limited expression, a language of its own that it expresses. Maybe that expression is in the way it shades the speaker, in the way that it protects her from the elements.

[Clockwork]

There is a cool ease about your words. This must be the way a root winds it's way to the soil towards water. The reader drinks from the dark pool that your verse becomes and is sobered. This was an inspiring read.

[Kaotic Barbie]

beautiful. So..imaginable. Good read!