Toughened Bark
it takes a hefty blow sometimes
to split you open
a sharpened blade to split through
years of tough old bark
in the deeper channels
feel how sap and resin thicken
sap to carry nourishment
keeping the woodiness supple
resin to protect
against parasites
invading your core
your heartwood
see how flow of the sap slows
skin stretches paper thin
the blue veins branch out
over dry twigs, feet and hands
blood pools sluggishly
in your limbs
years of bearing the weight of pregnancies
new green life budding
yet still the heartwood beats strongly on
it alone holds the resin, the fire
feel how sharp sorrow and memories
cut keen and deep
ah but a sharpened blade
is needed sometimes
to split through these years
of toughened protective bark
now no blade but your own
will cleave you to release your heart fire
you must be your own woodsman
coppicing your life
pick up the axe, then
a whole big heap of kindling is needed
least another harsh winter sets in.
to work!
Lisa Rossetti is a bibliopoetry therapy practitioner and writer, working mostly in community with vulnerable people. Her poetry can be direct and observant, often focusing on social injustice and female ageing. Lisa is currently compiling her second poetry collection.