Pruning a Fern (25/5/2009)

I have never pruned a fern before
But this ancient thing
Beside a more ancient stump
Is in desperate need
Neglected in its old age
Contained by a thoughtless blade
Sheered brutally into shape
New growth mingled with old
Moldering

I snip back the old woody stems
Deep into the tangled knot
Of brown and green
The rotting heart alive
With wood mites and fungi
I wonder if it is the right season
If i am making the right cuts
I regret the autumn spent indoors
Watching the rain fall
I should've been on my knees in the mud
Pruning the old growth
Trusting the roots were deep and strong enough
Knowing in spring the green would return
Bright and emerald and full
But my hands were rooted in another soil

And now my heart races, strangely
Practicing this late resurrection
Returning the old death to the older earth
Nourishing the place from which it came
Giving it life by taking away
Standing humbled, despondent
The growth of years in piles around it
While its new green arms
With their curling and unfinished hands
Stretch naked in praise to the silent sky
Unmistakably alive.

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love,
luke