The Long Body That Connects Us All
A Piece of Bark
I go into the woods behind my house searching for a tree just my age. I cut from it a jagged piece of bark in your memory.
I place the bark between my hands, scraping back and forth until I see red, until I see every gurgling, blue-faced, moment from our helpless night.
I know the tree is in great pain now as vulnerable as I am, having lost its armor, its beauty, its guide, its sleeve of hope.
I will visit this place often, to watch the tree heal, to grieve what I have done and what I have lost.