[oak.]

changes are like winter

they test the deepest roots

they pause our growth, they cause us pain 

they bear a cold, harsh bite 

the days are long, the nights are dark 

the winds are ever strong 

they make our branches brittle, which bend and, at times, break 

they make us beg for mercy, ‘make it end, for Heaven’s sake!’ 

when it does, we always find – that hope is like the spring 

our branches have vigor, they regain their youth 

their strength returns to swing 

they sway with subtle, gentle breezes 

moving, yes, but firm 

the roots get deeper, have more reach 

as they rediscover life 

they feed into their habitat 

and ease their neighbor’s strife 

and when we hope, we’re stronger than we were the time before 

the winter took its vicious toll; took all the strength we had, and more. 

 

I’d like to think we’re not unlike a tall and healthy oak 

tested, yes, but broken? no

steadfast in our time 

facing every season with a mighty, willing spirit 

and never swept away 

in touch with our environments – and never left alone 

giving life to those around us 

and supported when we need it 

standing tall, and standing always 

never to be defeated

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