The axe splits along the grain,
The weed will find the cracks,
Burning questions, long forgotten
Must be the ones asked.
There is grief in seeing yourself hardened,
Your younger smiling self pummelled,
Skin leathered
Body braced
Realisation like the surging flood
That you can no longer slow,
But in grief is the letting go.
The lives we were all promised
Were always out of reach
Now ablaze, already ashes
Blowing at our feet.
But as one way is reduced to ash
It clears way for many more,
A myriad of paths unfinished,
Maps yet to be drawn.
The life we'd been confined to
Was never going to last,
This change brings a chance for freedom,
The river must carve it's own path.