Celebrating 50:X

This is the lignum vitae A tough flower on dry ground This is the wood of life The mother of Merlin's wand The native child Of my native land Do not peel her bark Or your children shall die In some conspicuouus dark Of womb and mind If you cut her Make sure your blade is sharp To test the pulse Of granite wood or polish her her slowly To required taste This is lignum vitae Hard as a man ready To root his posterity here And when she is shaped Into what you want her to be When her contours are chiselled out And the hand that caresses her Is sandpaper rough with eagerness When you peel her of bark and dress You will see her skiin vnished and smooth You will see Jamaica Pannicle cluster hanging together Like this flower in any weather You will see heart wood unfeigned By the challenges of life