Our Elder

there fell, in front of me, a one hundred year old tree,
that fell as if the entire world had given up,
and vomited his roots out of the pliable ground.
water seeped forth from the tender underside,
and shared life with the near, dying flowers,
that carpeted the forest floor,
imitating a marriage and a funeral.
(a song of rejoicing and a song of solemn unbelief,
carried it’s quiet hum through the limbs and vegetation.)
his pale, dry bark that once covered a majestic body,
became a fortress, free to all who would need.
i saw our elder fall. i saw him collapse – his knees were bent,
like old, rusted downspouts from a century old cabin,
but in the wake of his death he finally learned to give.

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