Heartwood

my roots were frail

spreading slowly in the soil

I grew

young men gazed at me

they could use my skin

to make fire at night

they might

chop me

down

and decorate as they saw fit

 

some built hideaways

in the heart of my branches

where they stayed 

playing games with me

before they remembered

they belonged somewhere else

 

you can see the the scars 

where a pair of ropes

once hung a swing

causing me to sway

to an unnatural force

 

you can still find

scratches on the surface

carved words and phrases

in a language

I never understood

 

love

 

they all went away

I was alone

in the wind while the rain fell

hard against my skin

 

new leaves sprouted

whispering poetry

in lines of green

new patterns covered up wounds

 

now I see my reflection

just as it is meant to be:

I am everything

Reviews

[nrbthe1st]

Absolutely love this poem! I cannot stop reading it! I especially love how you are so descriptive throughout the tree's life, and how it got its scars.

[Kaitlyn Stone]

This poem has been accepted for the July issue of Empirical Magazine! :)