Forgiven Tree
By Christopher Ferguson

I wake up sweating
Clothes are soaking dry
Pouring through the pages
Of my thoughts and scribbled lines.

Put on trial by the audience
O my sinner
O my critic
O my raver
O my cynic
Stab me through the spine
With eyes so sharp and clear
Like a bed of iron screws.

Smother me o people
Smother me in ice
Douse my chronic actions
Douse my swelling flames
Trash me for what I’m worth
Trash my ash remains.

Walk me, pull me, drag me
Through a pond of solid fluid
Suffocate me in the window
Push me further down the well

The ladder disconnected
Bars of streaming grass
Trying to grab on
But it goes right through my hands.

Smashed against the bottom
As I burn the forgiven tree
Wither my salvation
Only I can forgive me.

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