Tree of Magashi
I have walked for a mile
in her footsteps.
She
offers a cooling balm
for the heat of my frustrations.
Leaning against that solidness gives pause,
to stop and drink in
the shade of her wisdom.
And I
marvel at the juxtaposition
of her willowy to my thick;
her smooth to my rough;
my prickly attitude to her leafy logic.
How she
lends a new perspective on
an idea ripening, dropping and withering;
a heart left in a mulch pile or
a dangerous flicker of doubt to be snuffed out.
Mirth crinkles in the corners of her eyes
as she too
carries faded battle gashes
where love has loped off
a once extended branch.
Her grove collectively offers comfort
for fruit born of loins,
falling and nestling
within rolling distance.
No more soothing a sound can be heard,
than rootsy laughter of womenfolk
of trees of magashi.
Copyright © Sandra Sealy, 1999
*First published as Guest Poet @ Poet Whispers
http://poetwhispers.wordpress.com
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