The Gnarled Caste

Often time we give ourselves to others, for others. We try to be "convenient." Not stepping on anyones toes. We give encouragement, good advice, but we end up pushed in the background, no more.

I stand rooted in belief,

unforgiving towards time.

A clockwork that ticks away

every passing hour, second-

I watch the seasons,

their beauty and despair.

An ancient tree,

I stand watch of the Earth-

it's creatures minute and large.

I feed them with my fruit

and give them shade and shelter.

Yet, the world is unforgiving.

Torrents of wind and storm-

They threaten to splinter.

I grew from seed, a husk,

years upon years ago.

My bitter roots have extracted

the thick blood of battles from the soil.

I stand watch a guardian,

a savior, a common redeemer,

but what has man to offer me

except to gnaw at me with toothed blade

and scar me with axe.

I stand here wounded,

gnarled and wise,

whilst those who treat me so

lose breath and tenacity to chop-

chop, chop-

me down.

I stand unforgiving towards time,

and even more so

I stand watch-

to watch them fall.

Timber.

Reviews

[Morgan Storms]

"I stand here wounded, gnarled and wise" I really love this line. Your poem has a lot of great descriptions. Thanks for sharing.

[Miiki]

That was beautiful!! I love your choice of words!!!