Dead Word Walking
I need a word
that describes the living movement of a tree branch in small breezes.
Not just any breeze
but a very small, yet powerful, gentle breeze.
Not just any branch
but one of those lower heavier branches that extends horizontally
far out over the surface of the earth.
Like a mama’s arm reaches wayyyy out
her hand hovering over the face of her sick baby when she pleads her frantic prayers.
Swinging?
The limb’s not moving far enough.
Swaying?
Too smooth, this movement carries small shudders of dread.
Swishing?
The limb moves too slow, so slow you barely see it groan
like God walking
before Creation
back and forth
back and forth
thinking of Calvary.
Maybe…
Maybe this movement was tree-born That Day, when tree saw them coming, laughing,
with their glistening axes.
Maybe…
maybe the word I need died…and hid alive That Day.
I need a word
that describes the living movement of a tree branch in small breezes.
Not just any breeze
but a very small, yet powerful, gentle breeze.
Not just any branch
but one of those lower heavier branches that extends horizontally
far out over the surface of the earth.
Like a mama’s arm reaches wayyyy out
her hand hovering over the face of her sick baby when she pleads her frantic prayers.
Swinging?
The limb’s not moving far enough.
Swaying?
Too smooth, this movement carries small shudders of dread.
Swishing?
The limb moves too slow, so slow you barely see it groan
like God walking
before Creation
back and forth
back and forth
thinking of Calvary.
Maybe…
Maybe this movement was tree-born That Day, when tree saw them coming, laughing,
with their glistening axes.
Maybe…
maybe the word I need died…and hid alive That Day.