#heartwood
Some days the wind blows
and bends yonder willow
Its roots hold sway
perched high upon
steep sea cliff walls
No gale could affix
a bow to such a limber
heartwood backbone
Wind arched echoes
undulate to and fro
alike a gentle restoration;
a resilience unrenowned
It looks as if it takes
the skies weight so lightly,
while the rising waves
gather an unhallowed chill
fomenting untamed
at the heart of the prevailing
westerly swell
A human tends to lean rigidity
right up to the yonder most edge,
a thin line threshold
a step away ―
pushed by a moment's gravity;
a blind jump over a cliff
into an unfathomable deep ocean
far beyond
a forgiving
willow's bend
Jesse Stillwater ... 09 May 2018
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
Rising to meet the sun,
A relative of the wind and time,
His branches reach out,
Stretching from his slumber.
The forest flames awaken fear,
Into the heartwood at his core,
He gives the thought a shake.
He would like to see the spring,
After the falling snow glazes the forest.
A resident of nature,
The Redwood withstands it all.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:16 PM UTC
I've said that I'm a drifter,
I've said it for many years.
When the hardest time in my life started,
my bark was stripped off.
I want to be strong, like oak
but I have become insecure.
I agree with things I would not approve of
just so people will not chop me down anymore.
I need to be grounded.
People come and go.
To me, this means I have to drift.
I must not get too attached.
I have trouble trusting anyone.
I don't know what my roots are either.
I don't know what my real personality is.
I get bits and prices of others and incorporate it into mine.
my branches have been carved and broken.
I have become plywood.
Plywood that does not fit anyone's needs.
I have a hard time using words like
"Love" or "Best"
to describe my feelings.
I see them as reserved words.
My heartwood is getting stronger
but my heart is not.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
I am a tree
Sprouting leaves
But my leaves too will leave
I am a tree
My thick bark protects me
But contains deep scars
Beneath my bark are layers of life
The history of my surroundings
But my heartwood is dead
My heartwood still supports me
It won't decay or lose strength
But it's only because of my thick bark
My outer bark- gained over decades;
Protects me from the destruction of my
Heartwood
For being
Vulnerable
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC