by Jodie Cumming
I stare at her in the lake
Baobab roots plunge down from under the eyes
Hollow rotting wood, sacrificing its leaves to the soil
Unfertilised muck, enamoured on by the flies.
This wilting willow will perish
For inside, is a flourishing seed
It thieves from nutrients, and forbids the sun
Overpowering without a voice, relentless in its feed.
Borne out of love
But bringing only terror
Branches excrete poisonous sap, thorns leaping from bark
No one will dare to come any nearer.
And so this solid oak stands alone
Tactile breeze tears the leaves, strips the soul bare
Trunk bending over backwards she imitates a crippled hag
Shackled into making a choice, speak up if you dare.
Now on the verge of collapse our sycamore raises a branch
Towards the tip of the horizon where balances the sun
The tree surgeon has rebirthed the pine
And the heavens openly bloom to applaud this is done.
Silver linings rupture and the clouds unleash their pelt
Ground and soil blanketed with dew
Evergreen roots nestle down, confide with the worms
Mother Nature has declared it is time to start anew.
Defaced and detached
The seed is unlatched
The rowan now free
To be nothing, but be.