Thursday 28 May 2015

The Fallen - Poem



No longer do they
tower
over all that lies
below clothed in
shades of green, or red
or gold.

Weakened by storms
disease and time
they fall; some into
the outstretched
arms of the young
where suspended they wait
for whatever event will
allow their descent
to continue to the forest
floor where majestic limbs
which once
sheltered the wild
and bent in resistance
to the wind
lay hollowing,
full of air yet
breathless.

The tough bark
which protected will
slide to the ground.
Nakedly the fallen will beseech
the young to stand
guard and bear witness
to the growing moss and
fading glory; to
remember a time when
the fallen were the shelter
from the storm.

Some young will twist away
embarrassed by what
their elders have become
yet even as they pretend
the limbs they stretch toward
the sky are invincible, their
roots dig deep and deeper still
to feed on the nutrients which
the past offers to the present
and the future.

And I who walks
among the silence of
their cycle watching limbs
bare or full of leaves that dance
or fall, sit down upon the fallen
in awe and wonder how we so different
in our purpose and our structure
can be so very much alike.

- Vera


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