A Martyr's Call Poem by Andrew Kennedy

In heights of heaven or shallows of ground,
to trees kissing the clouds.
With their roots spread beneath our feet,
lifting the Earth's shroud.
To waters shifting and its winds grazing the
skin stretched mouth to mouth.
I touch gently with ease, your sleeves
brussle with the grass.
In moments of serenity, distance means nothing
than the time spent on to one another.
In nature and strands alike,
in arms together.