twisted and broken

craggy and gnarled

brown grey dirty and damp

cold and littered, the rocks lament times story

of the pain and death

that have befallen this place

inquire of God — why draw such wretched foundation

on this earthen tabernacle?

questions rise in the morning mist

twisting through the leaves like the wind

and become part of the swirling canopy —

twisting a mystery

stirring a holy fear

why that the pain of ants and mites

gnawing at once strong timber should spawn new growth?

why that rotting waste leaching into roots

should somehow produce beauty?

why that when dug by hand and held to face

do these dark remains smell sweet?

why that death be this entwined with life?

— John Farkas   2008