Someone spoke a truth to me
On a face nailed to a tree in the woods
The blood painted a smile on his dew-dropped cheeks
And eyes carved from the beaks of woodpeckers
Refused to open after being tormented,
Sewn shut by the sap falling down the enormous trunk.
Wind rumbles and leaves shake
Quivering in a fast-paced motion
Shaking his hair till it frizzed and fell upon his ears.
“Speak”, said the squirrel who had long given up
On trying to find acorns behind the man’s empty flesh.
Dawn has torn into the start of a new day
And a shovel clangs on fallen branches in the distance.
His mouth opens to sing
Attempting to follow the commands of the forest rodent
But not a sound is made
Not a gulp, nor a heartbeat is present
Just jeweled trails down the cracks of the wood
Puddling on the cemented earth
Bathing the weeds beckoning a new day.