The Trees


I see the promise in Their eyes

They are beautiful and terrible, reaching for Me

and I writhe as the sound of a falling tree shatters My skull,

My heart

but They do not hear it


many trees have been felled in Their honor

They have been deaf to them all

but perhaps I have been deaf as well

surrounded by My trees for so long

their enveloping sounds stifling sensation

in a commanding silence


My breath, the wind

My tears, the rain

My laughter, the rustling of leaves


an ancient song rising


it is My own forest


within it, I can breathe

but when I am courageous

and take Their outstretched hands

to guide Them down the quiet path

towards the heart of My forest


They choke


foreign and vulnerable,

smothered by My strange trees

and the ancient song rises

and fills My senses

until I forget Myself

and They flee, watching as I fly into the singing trees, the wild, the dark, the green

and I prowl and thrash and feast


and live


under the boughs

under the stars


in My tranquil woodland cage


They reach for Me still

but I cannot leave

not for Them

not even to save Myself

from the trees


So I wait, deaf in My forest

fumbling in the dark

until I find one of Them

who can breathe beneath these trees

beneath these stars

One who can call the heart of My forest

Her Home

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