#tree poem

[khaire-traveler]

Soul

When a tree dies, where does it go?

Does its soul join those in Asphodel or Elysium?

Does Charon bear it, freely and without charge, across the Styx?

Does it dig its roots deeply into the abundant grounds of the Field,

Or lay its roots beside the restful souls of ancient heroes from times past?

Does its final breath intermingle with the breeze?

The same breeze that brushes back your hair,

That carries the melodic sound of your laughter?

Is its soul carried on that breeze,

Far away into distant lands,

That it couldn't explore before?

Does it appear in the forests that Wild Artemis roams,

Housing the squirrels and the birds that she hunts?

Is its soul held in the hands of Lifebearing Demeter,

Cradled sweetly as a mother cradles her child?

Or would its soul bury itself deep within Gaia's soil,

Finding peace and refuge surrounded by her all-loving presence?

When a tree dies, where does it go?

~

|| A poem made by me for the trees ||

[hemlock-druid]

Do you think my favorite tree in the park near my old house that I used to climb when I was a kid would remember me if I returned?

Do you think it would remember when we met? How I realized that its branches were strong enough to support my weight?

Do you think it would remember how I climbed just a little bit higher each time, until I was brave enough to climb to the very highest branches because I wanted to see how birds see?

Do you think it would remember how three of its branches grew perfectly into a hammock shape that cradled me well enough I could take a nap without fear of falling?

Do you think it would remember how my hands were always scratched up and sticky with sap when I went home in the evening, but I never blamed the tree?

Do you think it would remember how I fled to its branches when my brother or my dad were being violent? How I cried while clinging tight to the trunk? How the rough bark beneath my palms soothed me?

Do you think it would remember how I spent every second I could shrouded behind its needles, comfortable in its embrace?

Do you think the tree I used to climb as a kid would remember me the way I so fondly remember it?

Do you think I would know which tree it was if I returned?

[the-family-of-all-things]

Extract - Loitering in Exmouth - by Janet Hatherley

[theauthorpaula]

Oak Tree

[lunchboxpoems]

PADMA VENKATRAMAN

[toggerton]

How else am I to measure my memories

But by the rings of grief that I’ve grown through?

Sweet springs and summers

Long forgotten in favor of the wildfire burns and lightning strikes.

A cruel joy found in pruning my own rotted branches

No longer burdened by their scars or weight

Knowing all that comes from opening such a wound to my heartwood.

[bugburrypond]

(via Head Into the Wood 🌲)

www.laurajaworski.com 

[haystackpancake]

misty rind of busty limes tart and pucker, zesty kind, life's dripping nodes, showers burst rupturing silence of the forest- forest of swaying cranes, soot steeped sofa and concrete panes- but in the jungle of mans design ive got tree cum in my sinuses

Its been so long since I've had time to sit down and write.