Tree of Life

A broken heart
never truly mends,
but grows, twists,
transforms like branches
on a swaying tree of life.

It takes on new shapes,
breaking, bending, sprouting,
in different directions,
at the same time growing.

Absence consumes,
for a season
while the snow blankets
the heart and leaves
turn to ash.

So, cold
the heart skips
a few beats,
forgetting to breathe,
frozen for just a moment
unbearable,
space and time.

The pulse of earth
still moves,
gently,
gliding,
pushing,
pleading motion.

The earth moves
us beyond the will
to move ourselves.