broken

spirit broken out of nowhere, 

I had forgotten:  I would die –
one day of many – thrown away:
cloistered, meek in musty air,
watching minutes calcify

and stone angels turn to dust,

as birds soared high up in the sky: 

if they could live free, why not I . . .

I had a million reasons I must

seek – that gift of joy – and try.

  

and so, I went beyond the gate,

glancing back at where I'd been:

a self-inflicted muddled gloom –

locked in a tomb, between a fate

of phantom wish and cast-off dream.

and bathed my face in winter sun

and heard the song the breezes sing

and kissed the air and skipped and ran;

and flutter-flew and dove and spun:

as if my very soul had wings.

until, at last, I came across

my wizened, wise old friend:  the tree,

her gnarled branches swayed welcome

with wild wood life and light ethos

and ancient perspicacity.

and in that transcendental space

she showed me, what I could not see – 

the wonder that was there to take

for, at that moment, in that place: 

I was as young – as I would be.

note:  the prompt at Poetry Jam this week is “Broken”.

photo:  Tree Friends – W. Bourke 

© 2014 Wendy Bourke