The Pine

Suffers from a wound.
Its resin flows like a stream
down the trunk,
forms a pool on an upper nook
that overflows
like a slow-motion cascade
into the arms below.
All the golden
beads soon harden, done weeping
become white as candle wax,
suspend as icicles do.
If the aim of the event
was to heal,
there’s art in it.
The freeform sculptures, the scars
born from troubles,
protect the heart,
make a beautiful study of vitality—
that unbeaten desire
to live.

© 2023 Melissa Kalinowski. All rights reserved.