breaking through her eyes the branches splinter.
tears drop to the earth.
scarred trees and marks left,
silence echoes as the conversations of the trees race through the canyons of the mind.
forest of water and rain is what keeps it alive.
climb the elm and there cracks the branch below.
fall like feathers until the ground sifts you under.
the forest calls me and the woods become the marrow of my bone.
~creepingelm
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