Lisa Molina
Oak
The oak that flourished.
The branches once maintaining perfect balance
Arms with green fingers reaching outward and upward
Decomposes from within.
The greed for sun, water, nutrients
The overwhelming unrelenting quest to be
Tallest
Greenest
Power all-consuming.
Gluttonous branches desire
Believes it shines brightly
But only spreading its fiery darkness
Of hubris.
Arms wilting
Fingers gangrene.
The red hot rot
Transforming the leaves
To a sickly purple.
Ignored,
(Welcomed?)
Withering,
Not Wintering.
Its Icarus-soul denies.
Is blinded, burned, self-destructs
Turning to black poison ash.
Whipping winds wailing their shrieks
As they howl the ashes up up up
Infernal spirals.
Then silently flutter down down down
To nothingness.
Surviving terrified below.
Still-innocent rough brown Greco-nature columns
Arms curved downward
Fingers limp
Underneath the death ash
Deeply desperately waiting
As
Roots stretching heaving
Unwavering in their faith
The unseen pulsating intertwining life
In the healthy hidden soft earth
Connecting—
Speaking in root-tongues they alone can comprehend,
Whispering:
Our mouths suckle nourishment still.
The weakened pillars will rise up
Drinking the life-giving nectar of the sky gods.
Your spindly arms and pale fingers
Growing gay gorgeous grandest green.
To shine together once more.
Dryads dream.
Prometheus prevails.
—Submitted on 11/11/2020
Lisa Molina holds a BFA from The University of Texas at Austin, and has taught high school English and Theatre. She was named Teacher of the Year by the Lake Travis Education Foundation after her third year of teaching. She also served as Associate Publisher of Austin Family magazine. Her life changed forever when her son battled leukemia three times for a period of seven years, and still has numerous health issues as a result of the treatments. Since 2000, she has worked with students with special needs, both at the Pre-K and high school levels. She believes art is essential for the soul, especially in times of darkness. She lives in Austin, Texas with her family.
SUBMIT to Transition: Poems in the Afterglow via our SUBMITTABLE site.
If you enjoyed today’s poem and you value What Rough Beast, consider making a donation to Indolent Books, a nonprofit poetry press.
