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I cannot say
how good a tree swing
for the health of a child
who spends his days
fearfully misunderstanding
the loud, beating voices
drumming his differences
in succession.
I cannot tell you
how heavenly space
opens up a heart shuttered
by wounding words,
fly by statements,
from children
thought to be friends
if you don't understand
how the quiet of a tree
is a better partner
for the articulate soul.
After all:
silence is soft and gentle,
tree whispers are promises
and
when a child speaks his riddles,
trees do not assume
he will regulate
beyond the rhythm of the rope
he hangs from
in his effort to escape
the expectations he cannot slay.