Sierra V. Fedorko

when the old oak
cracked
with age,
I heard its agonizing
thunder.

it looked larger than life
lying flat on its
back
down the hillside
it used to tower.

time of death is the bridge
for a little boy,
the bench for a mother
with child,
the strong arm sheltering
buttercups, a meadow
begins to form.

I imagine it misses
the sky
I imagine it yearns for
the wind,
beautiful things did end
too soon, no denying.
but it stays where it has
fallen, rising
a lighthouse made of
split oak,
for creatures and
flowers
and children
playing,
for moments
and mothers
and catching one’s
breath.

here lies—no, forget the eulogy—
here lives, here lives,
here lives!
won’t the LORD make
all things
new?

S.V.F., Time of Death

read more:

The Heart of Hugh – first novelette in our Green Fables series. Free to you when your subscribed to my Substack!

A Poem for the Faithless (I understand.)

Counting My Blessings Like Sheep & Spiraling