memories etched in oak. //k\\

memories etched in oak. //k\\

and there, on the ground
I was not expecting you to appear
a ghost of oak and passed
a flash, lightning grasps the synapses
a bolt, a soul past
a page again revealed, open tome
and harken back, for she was alive then
there is nothing in this domain
no tree does remain near
no, this can not be here, not now, how?
nowhere in this cradle of maples exists
there was one but gone
the years, in creases
the sun, decreases,
the sin but to live longer than those loved
a traveler stained
tattered remains somehow stronger in the ruin
steel hardened under the constant cause of wounds
circumstance, fate
the great ghost oak awakens
the gateway, a marker
to this time of dying
so oak moon;
I know-
so oak moon;
I beseech you, I seek you
among the long of nights
for the respite of demise
may you grant wishes
upon, whisper
just whisper out, existence.

notes… sometimes the smallest things trigger a memory, this one in particular, I remember the day, much like today, not very remarkable, not very suitable, an early december rain, as I walked outside, I remember the crack, the flash, lightning arcing into that oak tree, the one that had always been, for at least my short life, FLASH! and the lightning arced out into the old basketball pole into the ground, the hair on my arms standing, the shock, well, the literal shock of being right there, seeing the death strike that killed that majestic old oak, and I remember her under that tree, and now all there is, is a patch of grass, not even a nice one, or uniform, many years have come and gone and the earth seems to hold the scar like my own, stump to root gone for so long now, but that little stretch of lawn, a scar, strange, maybe we are returned to dirt and something of us remains in that part, eventually it will all be plowed or something else, a street, a house, but for now, a reminder formed by the earth herself, and today, a subtle reminder brought in by a breeze, I literally do not see any oaks around but there was a singular leaf, a note, left there for me, and then these words came to be….

(for those new to my blog, welcome (and where ya’ been?), I write and post almost all in a whirl, off the cuff, the vast majority of what you will read here is done in one sitting, like I am doing now, flowing, that is how I do things, if you like? great, I appreciate your time, thanks.)

2 thoughts on “memories etched in oak. //k\\

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