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© 2019 by Denny Balish

  • Denny Balish

New Beginnings


Old tree

Snowcapped and raw,

Roots anchored deep

Beneath motionless ground;

Laying in wait

For rebirth

This, her scared duty.

For how many years

Within her heartwood

Has she held ancient wisdom

Of lives spent and rare;

Of those who sacrificed

That her crown might withstand

The stinging wild winds

To bloom again?

She belabors not

Sun warming her bones

Day by day,

Casting off the chill of long lost nights,

Quickening her marrow.

She belabors not,

Under the frozen sky;

For each has its season

And life never dies.


Into what ground

Do I send my roots?

To anchor me in a world

That is often harsh and unyielding?

What tender souls

Sacrificed their significance

That I may have this life, this day, this breath?

How do I honor them?

And to what

Do I give my heart and soul?


The tree questions not

Her sacred duty;

She lives until

She no longer lives.

And then,

The remains

Of her once magnificent life

Become the fertile ground

Into which others

Take root.