Return to the Woodpile
You called me back but I could not find you.
Then I found your arms but I seek your heart.
I must search on, before leaving I stroke the arms for you.
Then you guided my feet and drew me back.
Hugs given from your arms to comfort you.
Again I study your fragmented and torn body.
The tears in your core and in your skin
Feeling the tear of the chainsaw
Your screaming pain and the agony of neighbours.
Here you lie destroyed but offering up your beauty
Dainty dots like tears and swirling patterns speak of art.
Holes like open eyes survey your visitors.
In generosity you offer these gifts of beauty and joy
Until your final destiny – the fire.
In winter you will give your body
To bring comfort and warmth from the hearth.
And for it all, from this heart I thank you.
Karuna Jan 2017