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Destruction Lies in Ruin
©6.13.2017, Olan L. Smith
I walk to the old tree at the end of the road where I died,
A dark place filled with ghosts and scary people―
None of them I would like to meet.
Idle hands work hard in the night digging my grave,
Death's oil spreads upon the hearts of the living to anoint
An old maple tree ravaged by age; it stands sturdy in the winds of death.
Who grieves for the living grieves not the dead,
And in them is no hope or life or death,
But only the selfishness of their own sanity.
A decade ago you showed me this same tree
Destroyed, all but the trunk and a few limbs,
And you told me to grow, to renew myself from the loam.
I did your bidding--I recreated a denuded tree, it is now full of limbs,
Each leaf gathers sunlight to change it to pure spirit!
I am more than alive. I defeated the death-of-death that was assured.
Now, the dark places and the frightful people have vanished
Because of you. You have removed the ghosts, now, under the shade
Of the Old Maple stands life, destruction is obliterated, and hope lives eternal.
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Write Upon My Stone
Poetry"Write Upon My Stone" has turned into a collection of my poems about death, and other of my poems with dark themes. I will be adding to this collection with both new and older poems with those themes. Love, peace, and freedom. Olan L. Smith (aka...
