The green essence
Chop it down. Fell that tree.
Let the chips fall where they may.
Tumbling around me thunderously,
my elevated, foliated perches,
crow’s nests views, my hopes in the high branches,
bring it all down with Your sharp-bladed axe
cutting to the quick, deeper to the core.
I want to say this even as we both know
it’s but useless bluster once it reaches
my vulnerable mouth which has broken
its teeth on a thousand such hopeless cries.
But it starts pure enough, in the dark
heart of the spar, far from the accruements
of time and the journey, ignorance and self.
Truly sincere, holy as the green essence
from which it first emerged.
O child of God, you talk big yet
moan and sigh at the slightest quiver.