Finding New Purpose

Oh my soul A hole in an old tree Formed like a black eye Swollen and wet From a good long wooden cry That’s remained hard inside For all these years It’s not easy to soften To drop to the rot of your knees Becoming a flower When you’ve been shedding walnuts From a mist And divining air to all the world Carrying a crown full of sun Down the dark hill of night All of life To find yourself Arms broken No longer the harp of spring Cracked open like a seed From a sprout of next life.