A Poem: Burning

I am a burning tree

catching the flame
sparks flying.

For every leaf surrendered
to the fire,

for every shrivelled
ashen piece of me,

a new shoot,
fed by my old remains,
emerges.

Burning tree,
alight with holy flame,

teach me,

that death and life is a
constant cycle turning.

And as we are consumed
we brightly light the hill

upon which in another day
we grow.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
September 2019

 


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