Angel Oak
Dripping down,
Shed your mantle over me.
And let me hide beneath your branches
When the world is too much for me to handle,
And spread your leaves to fan the nakedness of my frailty.
For I am not what the world expected.
I am less than what they ordered.
But here beneath your ancient branches,
Leaning back into your massive trunk,
I am safe from all that the world
Would have me be.
And it’s enough
To know
That we are here together,
Two old souls who have weathered the ages
And still remain to spite the ones
Who would turn us into lumber.
The inspiration for today’s poem came from a picture of the Angel Oak on Johns Island, SC.
