We have had a wet winter,
rain — more often than usual —
and snow, a rare occurrence.
We attacked minor chores with
the first semi-warm day, as much
for the sake of escaping the confines
of the house as any real needs
of the yard.

Several low hanging limbs
of the river birch — having become
a hazard to walk under — were trimmed
close to the tree. But the tree, also
aware of the new warmth, had begun
to feed her extremities. Water ran
from each cut, falling back to feed
the earth once more,

falling like the blood
of Christ from the cross,
falling like the tears
of Mary mourning her Son.

Rain and cold returned with the new week,
forming ice cycles where
the tree’s wounds
continued to seep.
The next ten days brought two processions,
two versions of Amazing Grace,
and little peace. I paused by the birch
during the course of a restless night,
cupping my hands to catch the water still

falling like the blood
of Christ from the cross,
falling like the tears
of Mary mourning her Son.


Filed under Poetry

11 responses to “Wounds

  1. You’ve caught the melancholy spirit of the season exactly.

  2. for me the pain and wounds are palpable in this… love how you wove in amazing grace as well…

  3. the sap bleeding from a tree.. yes one should not wait to late to cut branches from a tree… the pain of trees so well captured here.

  4. wow..cool tie to the cross in this…and the blood of christ and the dripping sap…and then the amazing grace…well done mark…

  5. Very clever, I am very impressed how you start with something so simple as tidying up the garden… and then take us somewhere so unexpected.

  6. Cool format for this poem. The repeated stanza works well to accent the poem’s message. Well done.

  7. The sad story of tree, hope we take care of them now.

  8. yes…Wounds…hope we refrain from doing that…a brilliant piece..

  9. Madhura

    Oh the pain and wounds are written magnificently… One can feel the emotion dripping from your poem…

  10. Oh. Oh. Completely took me off guard, in a really good way, this is a powerful piece of poetry my friend.

  11. A gracious read, Mr. Windham! In agreement with all. The correlation between tree and cross, sap and blood are spot on. A great write, Mark.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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