I Speak through Rotting Shoots

“A tree which has lost its head will never recover it again, and will survive only as a monument of the ignorance and folly of its Tormentor.” ~ George William Curtis

.
The soil tastes of your faults,
water and wind sing of decay
that wears your face.

“It’s the way of the Wheel,”
the oldest of us used to say,
“men eat some of our young
and we feed on their dead.”

I stretch a blooming limb,
show dead sprouts to the clouds…
They cover me in acid tears
and wail of springs that aren’t real.

You’ve broken the Wheel,
I speak through rotting shoots,
but men seem not to hear

the coming of everyone’s doom.
.

the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Speaking for Spring’s Stillborn Sprouts: write a new poem from the point of view of a grieving plant whose sprouts were just killed as a result of climate change.

“The Crying Tree”, by Kobold-Art
via

51 thoughts on “I Speak through Rotting Shoots

  1. This is incredibly powerful Magaly, I could feel the pain and anguish in these lines; “I stretch a blooming limb, show dead sprouts to the clouds…They cover me in acid tears
    and wail of springs that aren’t real.” Beautifully expressed.

  2. I like the way you’ve incorporated the Tarot with the Wheel, Magaly, and the idea of broken seasons. The opening line is Shakespearean: ‘The soil tastes of your faults’ and I love the lines:
    ‘I stretch a blooming limb,
    show dead sprouts to the clouds…’
    and
    ‘I speak through rotting shoots,
    but men seem not to hear’.
    Fabulous!

  3. The reciprocity is gone. The scales hang unbalanced. Such sadness that has surpassed anger in its longevity. Very thought provoking, Magaly. You string words together like precious pearls knotted on silken thread.

  4. Problem is, I don’t think men ever thought the Wheel a Deal. Never enough in their favor. They got rid of the Goddess and stole fire and awaaaaaaaaaay we went. Earth awaits our destruction. Tough challenge, Magaly. I will read ’em and weep.

    • l agree. I think that when men told himself that he was here to rule over all other living things, he believed it fully. And arrogance made him forget that by consuming all living things he is also consuming himself. There will be lots of weeping…

  5. The grief in this is strong, but not as overwhelming as the anger, and rightfully so. Human who shut out the warning sounds of grief and anger have only themselves to blame.

  6. Such a perfect introductory quote, and your first stanza is a stunning globe–of image and light, darkness and fate–which the poem proceeds to carry like a banner of everything wrong unrighted to its lamenting conclusion. We can’t even fall back on Christ’s old pardon,, ‘we know not what we do,’ for those doing it know and just don’t care. Wonderful fleshing of your challenge, Magaly.

  7. extraordinarily expressed. the waving at the sky of dead sprouts and stretching of a blooming branch is similar to an Indian tradition at least of my heritage and lineage; Aztec/Toltec. we do this with plumes of feathers also for they have soared and know the secrets of the sky and whispers of the wind.

    wonderful write, mi amiga

  8. This nice, Magaly. Literally it tells of what happened to our landscsped back yard.when an unusually freeze came in January. Now it has been pruned and the more tender plants replaced. But symbolically it nicely tells of what people do to survive. Example,
    “men eat some of our young
    and we feed on their dead.” A figure of speech phrase that shows humans resorting to M. NATURE’s food chain.
    BTW, the way my ‘tree expert’ tells if a palm tree is actually dead is by trying to pull out its center core through the tree’s top. If it comes loose then smell it, if it’s rotten bury it or burn it. We lost one of our three.
    ..

  9. The Crying Tree is perfect for your poem. I tried to tell the artist so but one has to join this and join that and become a member and input your life history, etc. etc. just for a simple praise…nah! Poem is sadly wonderful.

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