WOUNDED
Sometimes we are broken
by circumstances or events,
like a tree branch
ripped untimely from its mother.

The nerve ends which drank greedily
of the sap of life, are still now.
Jagged edges that once pulsated
with vibrant greenery,
shading and embracing
those sheltering beneath,
are signs now of death and decay.

Life can feel like that sometimes.
Is this the end?
Slivers of experience, of joy,
of very being, shiver
and contribute to the dust of the earth,
unremembered, unneeded.

Is this what life becomes for all of us?
in the end?

Yet, gazing at the ruptured tree branch,
there is a certain beauty,
not simply a reflection of a life that was,
a contribution which a part of nature
makes to the whole of living,
but rather a symbol of our own part
in the cyclical journeys of the earth.

That which wounds us; breaks us,
is itself broken in turn.
We all belong to the same tree,
the same roots.

Knowing that is itself a kind of healing,
and a defence against all that would harm us.

[Mr G. 12 July 2025]
inspired by a fallen tree branch and a current sense of uncertainty.