Su Ben Poet Free verse

A Woodpecker's Day

a woodpecker pecking the past from a tree little by little  
to breed the ‘future’—the eggs, the woodpecker will lay in it; 
what will the tree do? a tree has roots it has no womb to conceive life

the woodpecker keeps pecking the tree not even considering 
the tree’s position; the blood oozing out from the tree’s wound
becomes limbs, branches, leaves and autumn, as some blood dries 
and lumps before reaching to wet the roots

in the piles of time, the ‘future’ hatched from the eggs that were
laid in the tree’s deep wound, now flies in the air carrying ‘today’  
on his back; a falling autumnal leaf hanging on a wing of the new generation woodpecker, struggling to stuff the pieces of sky into its hole the woodpecker 
one generation before pecked, gasping for breath
    
the wind after wandering in the air aimlessly
not knowing where to go, calls the cloud drifting across 
the sky and goes without knowing the story behind the cloud, 
as they become raindrops and fall to the earth

the woodpecker sits on a tombstone,
which never had sobbed or wailed loudly, 
she pecks the stone with her deformed, cracked beak 
wet in the rain; she scribbles a name of someone dumped 
after so many years of abuse

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