Beneath These Branches
by Anastassia Bougakova
Beneath a canopy of bare branches
Lies silence of a long forgotten ilk
That whispers words of wisdom in my ear
And drapes my shoulders with transparent silk.
It talks of trees and soil, death and birth
‘Till it is silence no longer,
But more a noise that grows in my head
And makes my footfalls surer, stronger.
It warns me of the time when I was dead
Beneath a gnarled, old, leafy oak
With eyelids heavy and hands cold as ice
That glazed the mossy stones like a cloak.
When birds sang songs of springtime no more
And fallen leaves lay piled under snow,
It was back then that I had woken from sleep
And ventured into places I now know.
The rocky pathways twisting through the trees
Are now beaten roads leading home,
And when the silent music truly stops
Perhaps it's there that I'll finally roam.
Anastassia lives in a nondescript apartment building on a nondescript street. She has a strong affinity for coffee and old books. Among her hobbies are reading, writing, and conversing at length with her cat.
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'A Forest of Courage'