Martyr Trees: A Poem

Nature’s skeletons

© Sherryl Clark 2018

Their naked limbs reach to the sky,

dead grey skin stretched

tightly over their empty hearts.

Stripped of all camouflage

they seem starkly honest

next to those cloaked

in secret whispering leaves,

dropping bark like hints

and gossiping in huddled clumps.

These trees spawn

trashy children by scattering seed

or sneaking suckers underground.

Martyr trees stand alone,

have no desire to cling,

are proudly barren.

They wait for vicious storms

to crack them open and

flay them to a glorious immortality.