by Ethel Mortenson Davis

It’s where the snow lies
inside the beating heart;
the forest,
who speaks in voices
across the wind,
waiting for the conductor
to begin
its movement springward:

Where teeth tear open
the flesh of a kill,
wolfing it down in mouthfuls
before another comes
to claim it as its own—

Where mankind
has nailed her hindquarters
to a board.

In her anguish
and suffering
the forest
still presents us
with gifts


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

6 responses to “Forest

  1. Ina

    That is a very impressive poem.

  2. Pause and reflect, it bids us, as a poem should do.

  3. sonjabingen

    You should read this to my students Mom!

  4. Anna Mark

    Raw, brutal, tender and hopeful. I really enjoyed this poem from start to finish.

  5. Ethel, another powerful poem. Especially,

    Where mankind
    has nailed her hindquarters
    to a board.

    Wonderful imagery in every line. I always hear the voice of nature/Gaia in your poetry.

  6. You do have a gift, Ethel, for getting to the core of all Nature…

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