Gouged Out Poem by Anthony Dalby
Gouged Out
Now I am gouged out.
Silt slopped to the side
A ruin, safe only for owls.
Saplings reaching out from the harsh cracks
wreaked in my side.
The nightingale presses its chest against the
thorn until it splits and falls useless;
a feast for ants, for secret larvae.
As the rotten fruit falls to the ground
the seed is safe within.
An orchard of potential
I appreciate the way your consciousness works-seeing, resulting in a telling, with significance embedded.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 8:37:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Hmmm nice imagery here, it tells me your feeling of a dying tree, hope i've seen it right.nicly written.