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Kathy Kubik

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Member Since: Jul, 2004


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If I were a Tree
by Kathy Kubik

Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Kathy Kubik
•  Drawing the Line
•  Somewhere in San Paulo published in Wicked Alice
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           >> View all 34

You might think being a tree is limiting,
But it all depends on where you want to go.

I sit high, skirt bunched around knees,
a handful of menís shadows flickering like rhinestones
on the ground below.

Digested, whole, clean

I am a descendent of the Redwoods,
there are no transients here.

Meditate to the constant hum that becomes one clear voice,
holds the forest together as one, emanating.

I curve my bones to wrap around this tree,
snake along niches and bumps, not minding the splinters.
Feel what you do.

I am full,
The kind of full that fills you like cement in potholes,
an empty cup thatís been poured over.

Resilient against the wind,
I donít care about that curve in my spine
or my stout prosthetic trunk.

In the tree world, different is good.

I stand tall, let arms curve to branches,
leaves sprout free.
You see me in the leaves, the bark, the branches,

The sun shines down,
I look up.
Rain showers and I am still,
comfort the sad breeze.

My leaves rattle like layers of cellophane
over rummaged plastic tableware

Centered, I share space with the sky, the shade,
point of land. Scrounge for my share of the sunlight,
stealing from the prudish bushes below.

I commune with the forest.
Discover that the voice,
the hum,
was my own.

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Reviewed by Portia Burton 1/23/2013
This is beautiful!
Reviewed by Joyce Hale 2/9/2006
A poet's joy and strength is in being able to place themselves within anything, and see out as though we were it. Wonderful write, Kathy! Peace. Joyce
Reviewed by Birgit and Roger Pratcher 2/8/2006
Never imagined that being a tree could be so rewarding, well done,
Birgit and Roger
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader) 2/8/2006
Well, hell, I do declare, Clare, watch out for that old oafish oak, he's not to be trusted, he pinches your knobby parts. Be careful, now . . .
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 2/8/2006

You were the tree. I believe that. You capture the majestic height and comfort trees bring. Love your imagery and verse!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
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