Boab

IMAG0657Upside-down-like, you bulb from earth –

your beauty breaks in root-like branches.

Spindly fingers reach to sky,

gaunt and stretching, delicate,

your certain trunk a monument,

a stout and stolid testament

to passing years, millennia.

Shedding pods to paint; a home,

yet prison; sacred; den for slaves –

drawing, standing, reaching out –

a sign for us of hands which hold

in spite of everything.

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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