The story will die with us

The story you’ve kept secret all these years
Dies with you
Caught on the tongue
Stung on your heart
Like a bee
I talk to myself
All I am left with a voice and story I can’t say
I pray I will meet you to talk to you in person
but our fears have worsened
You are a part of me that never goes away
It is our story that sticks in my throat
Like a bone
I am cold and alone
naked without the story we fashioned
Ashened and sack clothed
In my jaws of justice
I can’t say how I feel
I kneel at the gates of heaven
or hades
hoping that the trees will shade me
I talk to their branches and leaves
but does any one truly believe?
I was a messenger once
Cursed to talk of love
But never know
What it means
Even in my dreams
I cannot grasp a sense of success
if my story’s true
Then the colours of the rainbow belong to me and you
and I am your guardian.

The clever tree

I am more intelligent than a bush
I can’t talk though, I have no mush, no mouth
I stand for years in the same place
contemplating the nature of the universe
the wisdom of ages
It flows deep within me.
My kind were here well before
the humans took charge
We loomed large
reaching for the sky with our branches
Look at how life dances
to the beat of the drum,
the heartbeat.
We are overcome with activity
all but my kind
But we hear all from standing still and tall
Things that no one has time to hear
floating on the wind
Reverberations, prayers, mantras, feelings all linked,
The path of life is not extinct
The chain the roots are all linked