Ode to a Forsythia

Ode to a Forsythia

 

Recalling the Bush That Burned for Me -

 And How the Defining Year of My Life

Was Characterized by Chastisement

 

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Three decades since

I first beheld you here,

 

I have been chided,

 

Counseled

In my ways:

 

The loss of those I loved,

And penance paid

 

Have filled enough

A coffin with my days

 

And now,

I plainly see

The vital root

 

That elevates a blood

Into my leaves,

 

And grows out of a grace

In greater things;

 

 

And from that grace,

Its miracle receives

 

I know your brothers well -

 

I know the trees

 

And how a strange foreboding

Often fills a mind with

 

Queer amazement

 

And a fear,

 

When it is set before them in the hills

 

I sometimes have defied your lesson there,

When doubt denied me access unto you;

 

Rebelling 

Not in words,

But all in deeds,

 

And choosing comfort

Over what is true

 

And thus, I kneel before you in my shame,

As you bleed sacred yellow with the sun

 

And wait upon Your blessing

 

Or the blade

 

Until death or

Renewal is begun.