Tree at Crematorium III

Black pit

charred

and split

open at

the birch’s

Base

 

parted like

plundered

legs left

open

broken

black.

 

The land

stripped

once of

all green

grows again

green.

 

The tree

wound

and all

reaches roots

under

Concrete;

 

sucks at

ashes; sips

from pools

of death;

and still

grows.

 

-Alex C. Eisenberg

 

Alex C. Eisenberg grew up a child of the Pacific Northwest, but her ancestors are from Eastern Europe. A gardener, grief worker, and rite of passage guide, she tends to traverse the liminal space, between the upper-world and the underworld, drawing on and giving into the creative energy of the dying-birthing in-between. You can find more of her poems in River Heron Review and About Place Journal.