The Tree That Spoke

Address unspoken truths- before they fester.

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Old meek tree that stands

Wind stirring its autumn leaves

Old stories forgotten

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Stories kept silent

Etched on its frail, wooded bark

Not meant for the open eye.

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Girl runs from his hands

Boy cries at the too-harsh touch

It screams— but none hears.

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Lightning strikes; it speaks

Splits–a hole in its center

Locket, rusted blade

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It speaks in embers

In the scorched soil, way too late

To be heard.

🌲👁️‍🗨️🌳🕯️🌲🌘🌳🗝️🌲🕷️🌳🌫️🌲🌲👁️‍🗨️🌳🕯️🌲🌘🌳🗝️🌲🕷️🌳🌫️🌲

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Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.