A tall and mighty oak perched upon this hill,
His roots trace through a hallowed time and clutch a life fulfilled.
His body grand yet dying, his stance alive and true.
His leaves glisten through the sun’s light and cast a shadow spring-renewed.
Yet winter scares each year - the cold runs down his spine.
Each added ring resounds within - one day he’ll be but twine.
Oh, you gracious tree
Providing shade to me.
But this shadow’s carving caverns in my soul,
It fills me whole with grief.
See the cloud forming?
No rapture from the ground.
It’s only lightning hunting for the next one,
And with it, fear piercing from the sound.
Lift your limbs!
Grasp the earth!
Branch out high!
Feel your worth!
Tell me now how you’ve found comfort
In years opposite the bloom.
I feel the peace residing in you -
How can I feel comfort too?
Teach me how to wade the darkness,
Teach me how to follow through,
Remove my urge to stare into the depths,
Or bar concerns of my doom.
A majestic mast anchored in the dirt you’ve always known
But one day I’ll call it home.
When it calls you to fall from this hill,
Through fuel for pyres, and this page I clasp,
At least you’re useful still.
In time I’ll tell what’s left in memories.
It’s the stump I’ll leave when cutting down the tree.
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