Startling beauty and distress
by Sara EpsteinThin clouds let through light,
a different filter today.
Tiny stream flows around the heart-
shaped red granite rock,
green moss glows.
Pine trees, snapped
in the recent windstorm,
show golden brown splinters
big as bookcases.
Other trees, charcoal statues,
victims of arson, point to the sky
beyond, to live trees spare
and temporary.
Paths, worn down by daily walks
and big-tired bikes,
criss-cross the woods
with more and more trails.
Erosion by the reservoir:
tall trees, roots shallow,
insufficient, tip over,
roots still filled with rocks and sand.
That light shines
on broken places.
Each branch and tree
a living, dying body,
like some kind of animal or person
who sparks or screams,
wordless.
* * * * *
Sara Epstein is a clinical psychologist from Winchester, Massachusetts, who writes poetry and songs, especially about light and dark places. Her poems have appeared in Mocking Heart Review, Silkworm, Paradise in Limbo, Mom Egg Review, Chest Journal, Literary Mama, and two anthologies: Sacred Waters and Coming of Age.
Sara Epstein’s poetry has inspired me for many years. The depth of her images, real and imagined, have spoken to so many parts of me, mostly deep, soul filling and joyful in imagery that also speaks to me. She’s done it again, especially meaningful in the turbulent, climate altering times we are living in. - Susan Ollar
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