Far From the Tree



When Apple first fell

from the Tree, she bobbed

along on her sea

of forgetfulness,

oblivious to

the bruises on her

backside, pockets of

pus hidden by a

polished red skin. She

named her world Stunning,

and made plans to suit.


Tucked in the shadow

of those gnarled roots, her

gnarled senses labelled

sickly vapours ‘air’,


‘bed’, insect-breeding

swamp ‘home’. Belonging

lulled feelings into

a caricature

of the love she read

about in novels.


But the day she rolled

outside canopy

limits, beyond the

reach of Eden’s bite,

sun-seared retinas

peeled the picture bare –

twisted trunk and sour

fruit and warped world-view

became as glaring

as raw contusions.


Now she rolls, rolls, rolls,

far from the madding

shroud, far from the reach

of branches carved like

talons from deformed,

wormy wood. Far from

the Tree, in a patch

of pure light on grass

greener than life, she

sows a single seed.



25 comments on “Far From the Tree

  1. proverbsway says:

    Love this .. touched my heart πŸ™‚

  2. “bruises in her back pocket…” that’s so tom-boyish and a memory of my sister ~ wonderful ! Wonderful !

  3. Beautiful, particularly the picture!

  4. Glenda Mills says:

    Beautiful…Pure Light does amazing things with the seeds we sow…How gracious is God!

  5. Only one seed??? I know…it’s a poem!!!! πŸ™‚

  6. Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:

  7. “Madding shroud”–excellent.

  8. Gallivanta says:

    Yay for the apple! It is a survivor and a thriver. Despite the bruises, it has resilience.

  9. phillymanjim says:

    Reblogged this on PMJ's Favorite Reblogs and commented:
    Hi Melody, another beautiful photograph and a poem filled with incredible metaphors and a positive ending. I Started a blog that essentially contains reblogs, my own included but mainly from the sites I follow. Bravo you spiritual warrior, poet artist!

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