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.
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