GRIEF Poem: ULMUS, by Erica Berquist

The tree that she clung to was a twisted, diseased, shriveled thing.
Long ago, it stood as a proud sentinel in the yard of the family’s house,
yet the years had been hard.
As shouts ring from the house, she shivered
and her trembles send a cascade of shriveled leaves spiraling down.
A beetle scuttled across the bark near her fingertips, unnoticed.
Looking over her shoulder at the family home,
she felt no pull to it, nor the people inside.
She would go, not away, but up, up, up
the broken branches of the sickened tree.
As she climbed, her shoes chipped away at the bark
revealing red streaks in the wood.
The spindly branches should break,
and yet they supported her weight.
Then finally once high in the sky,
she looked back at the place that she came from.
For the first time, it didn’t hurt her to see the home.

Author: poetryfest

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