Mother Can Change

Words fade on paper
printed thoughtless,
Silent but loud

over days and months
and years.
Carried like a pale scar

marked on forearm,
Haunting name howls
like a trap.

Mother can change
as seasons do,
Warming with the

Spring growth;
Only the dying trees
refuse to adapt.

Dark bitterness spills
to the ground,
From overhead

where they always were,
Proud and inflexible.
Felled they print more

without a second
consideration, stamping
the next to grow

like them, secure,
Or not, in fear,
in change.

mother can change

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