In my most vulnerable and dilapidated moments, I call out with a powerless cry to the forest for limbs to grasp and break my fall

The timbers are weak, the cry is yielding

Birds are silently watching

It is in this moment when the limb cracks and I already feel the fall coming

My hand clenching the limb bursts into flames

burning the limb, trunk and finally the tree to the ground

Replenished

a new life is able to grow from the strength of the tree that was

Tone was found, I can stand silently in the forest