Rooted (Poetry)

When going through the wood
one day
I met a man with
wide grey eyes. He
stared so bold
and asked me
“Who are you?”

I wasn’t sure
just what to say
but answered
in the usual way —
said my name
like that
was all he needed.

He shook his head
impatiently
“No, no — that’s
not enough
for me. Look
inside
and tell me
what you find.”

So I thought about
what he might mean
by that. He leaned
against a tree
and waited while
I searched for some
thing wise
that held
significance —
“I am a child
of God”
was my
reply.

He laughed
this man
with saucer eyes
grey-clouded
as he fixed
me there
“What God
is that?”
he solemnly
demanded.

“Of all...”
I whispered
gesturing
to Nature’s green
and blue sky
dome ribbed brown
between —
he laughed again
a sound
that trickled
chill — it
filled my brain.

“Become a tree”
he ordered me
“and know the
seasons at your core”
then he was gone
before I’d chance
to answer.

I’m tethered now
rooted
to this spot
they think I’m simply
missing
but I’m not —
I’m the one he chose
to witness
and remember...
on my wooden heart
is carved
the final question —
although the
who and why
lies hidden
for the moment.