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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Nature >> ID #1599485 |   |
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Ragged log, wounded tree, sogged by time, forgotten amid your rising kin, you serve no purpose. Or, so it seems on the surface. Wasting with crumbled innards and a thin papery husk, meld with the soiled earth that bore you. Rear the unforgiving under your moss blanket, calm like the maggots nestled in your flesh. Die; I’ll wait. Die and cede, bleed ugly age into beauteous truth, your wisdom, so they won’t suffer like you did, like you do. Your bones they harvest. The white sheet lets no one remember you were here, yet the howls of November sing your departed song. Now I'm cold like you. Winner of the September, 2009 Shining Star award from Circle of Sisters and "Rising Stars Shining Brighter"  ![Merit Badge in Nature
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2009 Quill Award for Best Nature for [Link To Item #1599485] ; see [Link To Item #1376303] for more information](http://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Nature-1125.gif) This poem is part of a collection available to ebook readers at the link below:
© Copyright 2009 Always & Forever (UN: bkcompton at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Always & Forever has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. | |||||||
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