Fall and Crash
Roots as deeply sunken into the earth as a Sycamore
With an outer layer tanned, thick and woody
Protection grown from years of soil well toiled
I am beaming upwards, upright, reaching and soaring
Only now, it is, the necessary time
To be felled by deep, sharp axe wounds
Each struck by the nature of mans' loving hand
Does he too, not fear falling?
Soaring as I have for years in the canopy
Shoulder to shoulder and eye to eye
But now, feeling the searing dang of each cut
Strike at my feet and toes
I am beginning to fear falling
How am I falling without knowing?
The death of my own trunk, my own lungs, my own heart
My sticky sappy tears splash upon my roots
Unable to stand, breath or see
Will I fall and crash here or there
Will it hurt, will you help me with my fall?
Explosive and thunderous crash!
Unable to move, flat, down here
My trunk in half, my heart bleeding, my sight scattered
My truths and knowing broken and splintered
For you can see me now
Baring myself to you lifeless
Am I a task conquered?
What will you do of my seeds of thought, my roots of history?
My buds of life
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Comments about this poem (Fall and Crash by Honey Bee )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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