Souls

 

Storms came, great gums were felled
Crashing into saplings and natives
Ripped asunder with the force.
Devastation.

Time passed. Chain saws reverberated.
And neighbourhoods echoed
More crashing and grinding.
Clearance.

Then came the sprouting and greening.
Dead branches showing life,
Tiny fertile bumps appearing
Foliage.

Healing had started.

But nature, not forgiving, returned with hail.
In moments the fertile bumps were wiped
Leaves old and new shredded
More devastation.

The people moaned and groaned,
Fought their repairers, their insurance,
Searched not their souls –
Floundered.

But those soulless, leafless trees,
Regrew their shattered bumps,
Once more lived with shredded leaves
And grew.

We are the ones professing souls
That creation preferentially gave to us.
Yet, though with souls, we lose our way
In adversity.

The plants, with nought but search for life, just grow.
And bloom again despite their losses.
Spirit unvanquished with the storms.
Seeking existence.

Healing all, despite no soul.

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About Anne Powles

I am retired from paid employment. During my working life I have been variously and sometimes contemporaneously, wife, mother of four, lawyer, teacher and psychologist. I have also been a serial education junkie. As are we all, I have been an observer of the world around me. Here I have recorded some of my memories, observations and theorisings.
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