Thursday, 13 October 2011


I have been cutting out dead wood,
pulling out all that is dry and rotten.

Some pieces crumble in my hand,
some need a sharp blade, to cut
through wiry sinews.

I am letting in air and light,
penetrating the dark centre.

Branches, weaved and twisted.
They've been cocooned that long
they have forgotten how to breathe.

My fingers are creating space,
leaving only what is good wood.

Hands cut and scraped,
I step back and observe
the transformation.

A deep breath.
My work is done.


Fireblossom said...

Oh but it's never really done. Just done for now. ;-)

The Unknowngnome said...

A nice positive piece. It's all good wood. :)

Susannah said...

Fireblossom, yes just for now. :-)

Unknowngnome, thankyou. :-)

Good to see you both. x

joehebden said...

Very enjoyable poem.

California Ink in Motion said...

Well Done! I like the message within your poem.

Maya said...

saturn return?

Renee said...

Plants and human being can be very much alike in the way your words describe here. Beautiful piece.

Susannah said...

Thanks everyone. :-) It is good to see you. x

Ed Pilolla said...

i like this a lot. the dead wood is a strong image and you develop it well. pruning we think of trees but not internal work. there's a power in simplicity and i really think you nailed this.

Susannah said...

Thanks Ed. :-)

Good to see you.

goatman said...

It is a neverending process; just gotta remember to do it once in the while.
Very nice.

Susannah said...

Good to see you Goatman, and thanks. :-)

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