Tuesday, June 1, 2010

A Place for Deer, by Susan Christensen

The arid, parched soil clings to life;
No laughing breezes tickle its humour;
Few misty, moisty morns refresh its growth--
Just a dried out soul praying for relief
Withering from lack of attention.

The thunder clouds roll in
Lightening the dark with lightning energy
Meeting no resistance as its shards of pain
Ignite the tinder left unattended--
Seemingly waiting for the conflagration.

Fire storm.
Panic and pain.
No place to hide, to escape the heat;
The blistering invader lays waste to all
Stripping every superfluous speck of chi
From a once supportive life-force.

So cruel. Such devastation!
Such broken symbiotic connections.
Gone forever is the illusion of security and content.
The blackened stillness,
So stark in its soot and ash;
All life forced out,
The soil rests under its cauterized surface.

Pandora’s hope springs eternal!
Six months later
With delicate green tendrils peeking forth,
Life,
different, but life it is,
Makes a resurgence.
The soul of the forest is reborn.
This time -- with a place for deer.


By Susan Christensen

(Musings on recovery after trauma, both personal & environmental.)

1 comment:

  1. Thank you Susan for sharing your meaningful moments with us through your poetry.

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