The Ice Storm
I gaze at the standing tree,
shape changed,
deformed,
branches hanging hopelessly
for the life they will not live but in dream,
covered with buds of children
never to be born in a celebration of green.
With my eyes down-cast, I shed a tear, in mourning
for the dying, in suffering for the once beautiful
tree.
Then I look up anew with searching eyes,
beholding the entirety of the tree.
I see branches fallen to their doom,
yet!
I see branches standing green.
Life goes on, I think,
life goes on....
....like the rising branches
of the everlasting tree.
Parissa
05 June, 1998
(Inspired by the 1998 Ice Storm)
