Standing wizened and bowed;
Knotted with weary worries and gnarled guilts;
Aged by oaken regrets and willowy dreams, broken;
Twisted by time passing in ever shrinking rings,
Of passing draughts interspersed with hopes, lost;
Deeply bowed, yet standing;
Still standing, still.
Knees stiffly bend,
With creaks and popping cracks;
The ground rises, catching him gracefully by the seat;
Settling down, tired boughs finally at rest;
Eyes dripping closed,
Whipping winds of worries calm;
Gusts of guilt and shame slow and quiet;
Willowy dreams wisp away;
Oaken scars fade;
Time pauses, still.
Another rung drawn, he rises,
He stands, again.
Today’s poem, Still Standing, was inspired by my morning meditation.
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