A tree falls in the forest.
I
hear it
Sigh.
Grey
knotted skin
tears.
Crack.
Brittle
back
snaps.
The
windstorm too much to withstand.
A young neighbour breaks the fall.
Held
gently in fresh green boughs
Making
room for new growth
It
humbly passes.
I hear it.
An
old woman dying in her bed.
I hold
her
Gaze.
Clear
eyes
close.
Silence.
Shallow
breath
stops.
This
life too long for weary bones.
Granddaughter strokes her hair.
Hands
in hands
Clearing
the way for the next generations
She
silently passes.
I hold her.
My grandma.
 |
| With my grandma many years ago. |
©Conni Cartlidge, 2014
