Love, a Phoenix, and a forest broken by flames and loggers. All rise from their own ashes.
Another poet has taken the challenge to recount through poetry the loss of love, and the hope of redemption for our contest: Lost Love. Here is
A thorn from my Nootka rose
by David Jenkins
Alone, wandering lost in a no-more-forest.
A soon to be-more-forest of tiny seedlings,
Hemlock, fir, alder, cedar. Salal and Oregon
Grape sprout from un-kill-able living roots.
A forest floor littered with flotsam and
Jetsam of God’s desecrated ship.
Discarded, unwanted limbs and stumps
Ever so slowly returning to the soil from
Which all are created.
My path obliterated. Something bitter-
sweet trails behind me. I trip and stumble
Searching for a way out of this dead-zone,
Clear-cut, broken-life land. Perhaps I shall
Find a way through the debris as seedlings
Push aside impediments.
Exiled, one lonely bird sits on a
Leafless branch of a sad alder.
Abandoned by his lover, singing on, a
Song of love-dreams gone, lost forever.
Tears welling and streaming from his eyes,
Dissolve nourishment for his little perch.
Thickening tears will never become the
Amber of memory quoting years past.
Sister moon smiles at me through a small
Blue hole today. I know love , I tell her.
What next ?