When in Seeking Faults

I carved a stitched,
hard, thick line,
right into the bark,
in fact, in anger
I dug deep right through
into the flesh of that tree-
so that from its scar,
not just so sweet sap could seep,
but for the very life bleed out
in front of me.
How cruel an act
was it, you see
to deface a sleeping giant
for what harm
had that beauty brought me?
I proclaimed, irrationally that
it hogged my view of the sky,
stole the warmth of the sun,
and held me in shadows,
to remain gray and cold.
So, I decided,
my actions were justified
and scarred its existence;
I sought to teach it to hurt.
I left my mark on its trunk,
its own scarlet letter to wear-
for it forever to bear,
but it was, in fact, my own.
For that tree still remained,
standing tall, unbending,
despite it all
it has not fallen,
nor given in to the pain
brought on by the wound
I chose to inflict
when it would not relent
because all it wanted
more than to protect me-
from any element was to
stand beside, watch over me
and what I failed to see,
was that no matter how deep,
how hard or how far
I tore through the surface
to reach, to prove that the core
was completely hollow and
matched those from before.
This one was pure, solid, sound,
firmly rooted, steadfast,
willing to remain.
It was I who was foolish,
empty, and solely to blame.


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