Kanawhan Arbors
One year in H*ll and three years in Purgatory
From the burning wastelands to the frigid cold
Walking on blisters and dreaming of the sun
Lost in the darkness, lost in the night
On the rim of the forsaken was a forest
The wind whistled through the trees above
Voices in the distance, light among the shadows
Strong were the roots held tightly in the ground
About them was peace beyond words
A respite from the cold and dark
Drawing from the earth, prosperous in the rain
The gift of the trees was protection, or redemption?
I walked among them one evening and there was a glow
Far away from my shackles and torment
Safe passage? Forgivness? Was this the light?
I stole away from my prison and there was life there
Life to fill my heart and soul and the trees were silent
They know of the pain and cry their leaves in sorrow
For the passing of the season, for the little death in us all
Their wisdom is simple, rebirth is but a cycle
Though it pains them so for every year they die
Waiting to be reborn again with the season
They saved me, the trees on the edge of Purgatory
Their leaves are the fallen martyrs
Teaching the lesson of the Kanawhan Arbors
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2009
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