April is National Poetry Month, and here at Parenting with PTSD we will be sharing poems written by our community all month. If you would like to contribute, please send us your poem to parentingwithptsd@gmail.com
The Tree.
She is but fragile fragments,
Rooted to the ground,
Sturdy almost stagnant,
Her insides twisted round.
Her outer Layers weathered,
But inside she still grows,
The life that was once severed,
Now simply ebbs and flows.
Mother Nature saved her,
She did what had to be done,
She used what instinct gave her,
And grew a baby son.
Entwined they grew together,
He poured sunshine on her rain,
The cloud she’d had forever
Was no longer heavy with pain.
Strong enough to branch out & reach,
They found much higher ground,
It’s amazing what our lives can teach,
And where nurture can be found.
The nature of our nurture,
Is passed down to our seedlings,
They remind us of our futures,
Sprouting fresh growth and healing.
To all the weathered trees out there,
Hold on through all those storms,
When all feels empty, poor & bare,
Lessons are then born.
Seasons have a way of changing,
And with them, so do we.
So be at peace with changing,
And don’t forget who you can be.
– Rachael Ellen Rose
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