Untitled Document
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The Stump of a Young Tree
Digging up the stump of a young tree
Makes my eyes well with tears.
I fell hard to the softness of love
Now all my bruises caused by it
Are tender but my heart is hardening.
I kept digging and wept singing
The sad melody of "woe is me."
Digging deeper with each absorption
Of the spade to the dirt.
[I lose track of which carries the spine.]
[undemanding]
Spade to dirt, she tried to stop the hurt,
It must be inside of me.
Now I have dug past the last root.
Lost, locked in hollowed chambers
I carry a flame but still remain directionless.
No further way can I dig today
But I lay close to the warmth of her breath.
Watching where my mind may travel
I must confess it's sometimes hard for me
To stop digging in misery.
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