Wooden Heart

I have been lucky. I really have. Pure luck. Some of my friends and fellow sufferers have fared quite differently. Literally. Perished and gone forever. Others have been reincarnated. Technically something terribly complicated and I suspect it took
some years. Or centuries.
Some distant cousins have, it seems and by hearsay, evolved into something rather
liquid. Their offspring, on the other hand, have not only managed to keep their solid form
and have even become rock hard. Like stone.
Combustible too, very combustible. And thus condemned to an extremely short new life. Not really a warm thought…
I have also heard about some neighbours of mine who ended up in the formwork.. A new and constructive future. Better than nothing, it could have been worse.
So it was for me. I stood for decades being who I was. A tree of a guy, pure oak. Suddenly your time has come and you inexorably fall to the ground. Everything stops at that moment.
The wind between my strong arms and leaves, defying the four seasons and as many wind directions. The crows that flew all over me and scratched and laughed to defend their territory.
I was dragged away and laid out to dry. Stripped of my bark and my limbs
I was carried into a shed where I was reduced to planks.
I was lucky. In my new life, I can still hear the crowing. But softer
this time. The newborn baby that lies within me is also new. Would it know that I am the cradle in which she lies?

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