I really love this poem from Pooky – it completely strikes a chord with where I am right now. A broken thing, a tree who couldn’t.
I have friends on the end of Facebook, within reach of a virtual hug;
I have friends on the end of a phone.
I have a therapist barricaded behind boundaries, and a God in his Heaven;
And a pain in my chest where it hurts to be alone.
It’s summer, yet my leaves don’t grow.
There is no leafy green on show.
There are no buds
That promise life,
No branches
Growing to the light.
I’m sitting dormant, sad and weak,
I look dark and dull and bleak.
At first you stop
To see what’s wrong,
But that care ends
Before too long.
I sit, forgotten, in plain sight,
Amongst the trees whose boughs are bright
With blossoms, leaves
And birds who sing,
Whilst I stand bare,
A broken thing.
I wither, shying from the light,
I look more dull when days are bright.
The hot sun shines,
Reminding me
That I should grow,
Like other trees.
But sometimes it is hard to grow,
And put your leaves and flowers on show.
So I withdraw,
My branches bare,
Whilst brighter trees
Receive your care.
