I will make my way across the water
I will push my way
through the threshold,
bend over the edge then
let myself go – gravity,
mudslides and rock edges
will dictate my descent, but
I will look up and witness
the starlings amongst the sparrows,
the dislodged grass sprouts that take
the fall with me, above me
in gentle wave-like motions
with the wind.
These limbs will crash,
be cut from their flesh, and I will break
only to be reborn, a sapling, myself
graced with lifetimes of memories, stretching
my stem gradually into the light.
In time, animals will flourish under
my shaded canopy, and lovers
will carve their initials into my skin,
promising one another their exclusive eternity.
I will make my way across the water,
over the threshold and fall
to embrace the ground I came from.
Spread low, spread high – a century
or more guardian, a tree-fort reaper in a forest
far across the hill and still
Copyright © 2017 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Random Poem Tree” February 2017
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: