Sacred Wood

A light fir bell
sprung green,
a tree full-grown,
green, green as ever
its coat ever green
in this forest of hope.

A special worshipful tree,
its needles, its cunning cones
with stiff prickled scales
welcoming, bristling,
in the morning breeze.

This one tree waiting
in the forest’s heart
for the consequence of
our arrival; the forest
parting itself only
to fold itself
over and over;
the traveler’s footsteps,
the hunter’s hut,
the remains of seasons
leave no trace.

The wood creaks in the cold
and we wonder why we came
on a cold day to this forest,
the two of us, all this way,
wandering far from home,
wondering how we found
this special tree.

The tree, that light
fir bell sprung green,
a shield, a queen, an upright
altar, growing towards heaven,
taking us, two among many,
opening our hearts,
making us one,
making us see
in exaltation and terror
its standing transient splendor,
its sacred stance and place,
then changing us
to one certain form,
making us open to all,
making us sound no separation,
no sound at all,
silent and joyous
in the open air,
like bells made of water.



About the Author: Jack D. Harvey’s poetry has appeared in Scrivener, Mind In Motion, The Comstock Review, The Antioch Review, Bay Area Poets’ Coalition, The University of Texas Review, The Beloit Poetry Journal and a number of other on-line and in print poetry magazines over the years. 

The author has been writing poetry since he was sixteen and lives in a small town near Albany, N.Y. He was born and worked in upstate New York. He is retired from doing whatever he was doing before he retired.