Burnt Oak

Countless oak trees

Stand silent

Like palace guards

In Bushy Park

Ignored by grazing deer

And families

Who have walked the trails

For generations.

But one tree stands out.

Damaged by lightening

Decades ago

Its trunk sliced open

By God’s jagged blade

A charcoal lining exposed

Its guts

Consumed by inward fire

It should be dead.

But from its thin skin

A single branch

Continues to grow and leaf

Defiantly.

Disfigured but alive.

This nameless oak

Stands guard

Over nothing but its life

It Inspires and converses

In its own glorious way.

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Burnt Oak