Again and again it calls me.
Even in the deep lullaby of sleep—then too,
It is there, holding fast in my mind,
Dressed thick with ivy, a collar of green,
Like arms around and around the width,
And nestled in against its bark,
Like a close secret shared.
And I am in front of it,
This tree,
And I desire to hold fast,
To let the wind hold us, as I whisper
Into its ridged bark, thank you and
Thank you. And pause to inhabit this blessing.
Bracha K. Sharp
Bracha K. Sharp was published in the American Poetry Review, the Birmingham Arts Journal, ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Wild Roof Journal, The Closed Eye Open, Rogue Agent, and the Thimble Literary Magazine,
among others. She placed first in the national Hackney Literary Awards;
the poem subsequently appeared in the Birmingham Arts Journal and she
was a finalist in the New Millennium Writings Poetry Awards. She
received a 2019 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards Silver Medal for her
debut picture book. As her writing notebooks seem to end up finding
their way into different rooms, she is always finding both old pieces to
revisit and new inspirations to work with. She is a current reader for
the Baltimore Review. You can find out more about her writing by visiting: www.brachaksharp.com
