it is as if the forest lasts forever –
everything that needs to be lifted
gradually descends here,
through the woods hangs silent –
the shape of branch it fell from,
keeping soft and green
a small resting place beneath
so what used to be survives.
Poem and image by Sarah Rehfeldt. Please do not copy without my permission.
Poem and image appear in Third Wednesday, vol. 8, no. 1 (Fall 2014);
reprinted in Tipton Poetry Journal, issue 32 (Winter, 2017);
reprinted in The Write Place at the Write Time (Winter-Spring issue, 2017);
and also reprinted as “Monochrome” in “Membership Moments,” a publication of Spiritual Directors International (October 2014).