The night Death took my Dad away from me,

a rough wind shook hard our family tree.

It almost plucked it from its very roots …

thank God ’twas still heavy, full of good fruits.


Now bare of both the parental branches,

the tree’s strength wilted with all the wrenches.

Some rotten fruit hard to the ground they fell;

I fought to hang in there through the whole spell.


The surrounding green turned black and scary,

as the fruit and branch tie became wary.

Part of me died on that very same day;

foundations were rocked … was going astray.


And even if at times I’d wished to fall,

I knew that it really was not my call.

The force that held me was cast out of love,

my parents instilled, with nothing above.


As the tree kept shaking, most foliage shed,

memories helped me start to myself clad.

I clung to my branch, as hard as I could;

look … fruit and branch merged, as they’ve always should!


At last, the wind started losing its reigns,

as my tree swayed along, not against lanes.

Out of the dark bark a butterfly flew;

it let itself fly up to the skies’ blue.


As its silver wings it gracefully flapped,

off my dewdrops of tears it softly tapped.

And, from it my Dad’s voice was clearly heard,

reassuring as always, word by word.


“In your heart do keep me and Mum alive,

and I promise you that you will survive.

My teachings cherish, the ones you were told,

and warmth will engulf you, beating the cold.”


This was told as I saw it join its mate;

I instantly placed the latter with faith.

The two whom, on Earth, did give me their all;

my guardian angels, my own tree’s and all.


©Marie G. – A Modern Divine Comedy