Sometimes
my soul hangs off me
in strips.
It makes me think of the bark
that peels from fat-trunked trees;
old layers tearing off in shards—
like maybe
the tree
might be crying.
So that’s what a sad soul looks like?
When I walk in nature
I wonder if it’s true.
Maybe a tree wears its soul
on the inside…
and the outside.
And maybe trees
need
to be hugged.
Just like we do.
One reply on “The Story Of a Soul”
An interesting thought. The next time I see a tree in need of a hug, I’ll be sure to give them. I guess everyone and everything could always use a hug.
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