Bodhi Tree Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

I sat beneath a Bodhi tree.
A defining light through the foliage shaped me.
As if I were a seedling devoid of nourishment
As if I were a sapling, drowning in light all too abundant.
As if I were that final circle of bark —
Left clutching itself to perform its own last rites.
Entombed, enclosed, embalmed in eternal night
Waiting for its timber space to ignite.

Ah, child, look at the leaf of a Bodhi tree.
Look at its veins; it, too, is another tree.
Its green interior — another you, another me.
Still in shade and shadow, an emerald waiting to be set free.