A Mothers Grief, Rage and Quest

Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins, pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf; For suddenly and without any fair warning came, an enormous black cloud that stationed itself overhead and obstructed the sun from my first redwood seed in sprout and with a great fury it released a violent torrent of rain, drenching it completely, until alas my sapling did drown. My budding redwood tree, destroyed before its time, the damage is irrevocable and my sapling is no more. Like a cannon ball shot from its cannon, fire shoots from my mouth with all fierceness and in rage I roar…. “Who really is to blame for this unfathomable demise of my precious sapling, my budding grand redwood tree? Was it the black cloud with its tools of destruction or the lack of assiduousness of those with their expertise?” Yes, regretfully my sapling was not planted by the stream. As a seed, in ignorance it was sown upon soil rocky and dry; yet against all odds, my seed sprouted with some foliage, but its roots did not run deep and so with the specialist I relied to care and strengthen it so it could withstand the bad elements. Sadly, they were specialists with an expert eye that could not see, they were worthless and of no avail, lacking the assiduity needed, for their eyes, mind and heart were blinded by their own greed. Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins, pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf. For the black cloud is now set above me like a fixed stain, with all might I struggle to escape it’s dreadful grip, but still it hovers over me obstructing the sun from my days, releasing a torrent of pain and in the agony of my loss it drenches me and the answers to my questions are still opaque. Oh...but take heed all you with your degree, my roots run deep, I will not drown and like a raging bull I push forward so valiantly for the lucidity of the answers, lucid as a glass made of crystal; all for the love of my departed budding grand redwood tree. Written by: Joan Marie Peranteau copy written May 3, 2014 Dedicated to and written in regards to my beloved son; Nathaniel Blaine Gibson