The Ash Tree Poem by Ashley Wilson

She refuses to be another daisy,
Picked for her beauty and left to die,
She is pure, wild, fearless and free.
Difficult to find even with an open eye.
Yet as grounded as the mighty ash tree.
She wears strength on her leaves,
And when darkness bereaves,
She does not fear,
She becomes it.

A museum full of art,
Concealed by her eyes,
Time has woven courage on her skin.
A blank canvas at the start,
Her soul was sheathed with bise,
Until she looked back at what has been.
As light found her face,
And faith found its place,
The sea parted to awaken her soul.

Now she knows there's a place,
Beyond the mountains ahead,
Where she has reserved a home.
As her branches wither and fall to the Earth,
She finds comfort in knowing they're reborn.