The Vine Poem by Pat Kunisch

Lonely echoes like a silent heartbeat
awake the memories of the deep;
of times that want to be forgotten
like a harvest not meant to reap.

The seeds of anguish will not lie dormant.
Like a weed they reappear.
In the garden of Life’s troubles,
they seed themselves with every tear.

The rays of sun burn with a fire.
The rains fall down profound.
The roots of joy fight to take hold
of the dry or the soggy ground.

How can the vine grow strong and steady
when the elements fight each day
to stop the gentle sound of songbirds,
as they search for a place to play?

How can butterflies dance in the breeze
and kiss the lips of subtle laughter,
or bumblebees gather their nectar
from a peaceful vineyard’s rafter?

Though small and weak the root will seek
to reach a deeper spot
where silence drowns all echoes
and where it cannot rot.

In the quiet bosom of the earth
it patiently grows strong
and stretches out its hopeful arms
as they spread both far and long.

Slowly in time as seasons change,
the vine breaks through the ground,
with strength and courage to rise above
the surface where weeds are found.

The sun may scorch but cannot burn.
The rains, they cannot drown.
The heartbeat of the vine now echoes
and new memories become its crown.