my own blood
my beloved
my heart beats loud in my chest,
i know it is because my heart,
it is not so good,
too soft, too big, too fragile
I find beauty in these things
the solemn melancholy
the smallness of me
against the bigness of the world
i revel in each of my broken branches
the storms that have passed over me
leaving me in pieces
i curl in upon myself
a moth not yet emerged
from its brown leaf cocoon
i do not want to leave this place
it is safe here.
i am a stone foundation
still holding back the earth
while a tree grows inside me.
i once dreamed that my hearth fires burned bright
that my tending kept it strong.
now i cannot find the matches
and the wet wood will not burn
these cold fingers are a revelation
i weep against the morning sun
leave me to my darkness
leave me to my cold bed
leave me to wonder if spring will ever come
i wrap myself in furs
and step naked into the snow
my breath like a dragon
it wraps around my ankles like a Scottish mist
the wind takes my hair
and i toss my head like a wild horse
only there is my shadow,
and i sidestep afraid
i turn to find comfort in affection
and only my own arms wrap around me
i stumble lost in the woods
and fall before her feet
abandoned.
my heart
it is not so good
it is fragile
soft
i stand in this place
and my breath it is like the reaches of space
i cannot find the air to breathe
as i see how beautiful
this whole world is.
and how unbearably
ugly
man
has made it.
This is so beautiful, Meg.
thank you!
Yes it is and what a wonderful old tree…….
Mom isn’t it lovely. In person it just stops you in your tracks.
We DO share our love of trees. I still miss Kildare and walks to the quarry….